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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MEMOIRS   OF   MRS.  JAMESON 


LONDON  :  PRINTED  BY 

SPOTTISWOODE     AND     CO.,      NEW-STREET     SQUARE 
AND   PARLIAMENT   STREET 


MEMOIRS    OF   THE    LIFE 

OF 

ANNA     JAMESON 

AUTHOR    OF   'SACRED    AND    LEGENDARY    ART'    &c. 


BY  HER    NIECE 


GERARDINE    MACPHERSON 


So  good  a  lady  that  no  tongue  could  ever 
Pronounce  dishonour  of  her :  by  my  life 
She  never  knew  harm-doing 

King  Henry  VIII. 


WITH  A    PORTRAIT 


LONDON 
LONGMANS,     GREEN,     AND     CO. 

1878 


All     rights 


College 
Library 

-PR 


ON 

A  PORTRAIT  OF  MRS.  JAMESON 
BY  HER  FATHER. 

In  those  young  eyes,  so  keenly,  bravely  bent 
To  search  the  mysteries  of  the  future  hour, 
There  shines  the  will  to  conquer,  and  the  pow*r 

Which  makes  that  conquest  sure, — a  gift  heaven-sent. 

The  radiance  of  the  Beautiful  was  blent 

Ev'n  with  thine  earliest  dreams  ;  and  tow'rds  that  star 
Of  thy  first  faith,  oft  dimm'd,  and  always  far, 

Still  hast  thou  journey'd  on,  where'er  thy  tent. 

O,  never  yet  in  vain  such  pilgrimage  ! 

Witness  the  poet-souls  of  every  age  : — 

Long  ere  the  Magi  hail'd  the  prophet-beam, 

Or  Worship  own'd  an  altar  and  a  shrine, 

The  few  who  felt  how  real  the  divine, 

Thus  gazed,  and  thus  imbibed  th'  '  etherial  stream.' 

A.  L.  NOEL  BYRON  (1841,. 


3116703 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  perhaps  desirable  that  I  should  explain  how  it 
is  that  I  have  been  induced  to  gather  together,  from 
materials  long  put  aside,  the  following  Memoir  of 

A 

my  aunt,  Mrs.  JAMESON, — a  thing  which  \ras  not 
thought  of  at  the  time  of  her  death,  now  nearly 
eighteen  years  ago,  chiefly  because  of  her  own  dis- 
like to  the  idea  of  having  her  private  life  and  the 
facts  connected  therewith  paraded  before  the  world. 
This  repugnance  on  her  part  was  naturally  at  the 
moment  entirely  consented  to  by  her  friends,  to 
whom,  in  their  early  grief  for  her  loss,  all  her  wishes 
were  very  sacred.  As  time  went  on,  however,  it 
was  impossible  not  to  regret  the  want  of  some  modest 
record  of  her  existence  and  her  work,  among  the 
many  biographies  daily  issuing  from  the  press,  of 
her  contemporaries ;  and  the  idea  had  often  been 
suggested  to  me  by  friends,  and  had  arisen  in  my 
own  mind,  to  make  her  readers  of  the  present 
generation  in  some  degree  acquainted  with  her  per- 
sonally. There  were,  however,  many  difficulties  in 


viii  PREFACE. 

the  way.  My  aunt's  life  had  been  full  of  domestic 
care,  and  she  had  not  been  happy  in  her  marriage 
— a  misfortune  always  difficult  to  explain,  and  still 
more  so  when  the  minor  facts  which  make  incom- 
patibility of  temper  insupportable  have  faded  out  of 
recollection  ;  and  I  (the  only  member  of  her  family 
likely  to  undertake  the  work)  had  been  so  entirely 
brought  up  under  her  shadow,  that  I  feared  my  own 
power  of  making  any  impartial  portrait  of  her,  or 
even  being  able  to  attain  to  the  necessary  perspective 
of  a  picture,  in  which  there  should  exist  just  poise 
and  proportion  of  the  different  events  and  elements 
in  life.  The  subject  was  brought  again,  however, 
very  vividly  to  my  mind  by  hearing  some  time  ago 
from  a  friend  (Dr.  Steele,  of  Rome)  of  an  article 
then  just  published  in  the  current  number  of  the 
'  Edinburgh  Review/  in  which  a  very  flattering  allu- 
sion was  made  to  a  paper  written  by  my  aunt  in  1853 
on  the  painter  Hay  don,  and  published  in  that  peri- 
odical. Out  of  the  way  of  English  periodicals  as  I 
was  in  Rome,  some  little  time  elapsed  before  I  saw 
this  notice,  and  in  the  meantime  the  surprise  I  had 
frequently  heard  expressed  that  no  memorial  of  Mrs, 
JAMESON  had  ever  been  published,  and  even  that 
several  interesting  contributions  to  periodical  litera- 
ture had  never  been  reprinted,  dwelt  much  in  my 
mind,  and  prompted  me  to  consult  Mrs.  JAMESON'S 
only  surviving  sister,  Mrs.  Sherwin,  my  dear  and 


PREFACE.  ix 

venerable  aunt  Camilla,  as  to  the  possibility  of  finding 
material  enough  to  give  a  fair  account  of  her  life, 
and  of  the  manner  in  which  her  mind  was  led  to- 
wards those  fields  of  art  in  which  she  had  always 
been  most  at  home,  without  transgressing  her  own 
rule  against  indiscriminate  publicity.  Mrs.  Sherwin, 
reluctant  at  first,  at  last  began  to  yield,  like  myself, 
to  the  wish  of  thus  raising  a  little  memorial  to  one 
whose  kind  and  (to  us)  commanding  presence  had 
taken  a  central  place  in  a  great  part  of  her  life,  as  in 
all  the  early  days  of  mine.  By  dint  of  thinking  and 
writing  on  this  subject,  we  soon  ventured  to  enter- 
tain a  hope  that  she  might  be  able  to  furnish,  and 
I  to  set  before  the  public,  some  such  sketch  of  so 
beloved  an  image  as  would  make  the  author  of  the 
1  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art '  known  to  her  many 
readers. 

This  hope,  however,  was  stimulated,  I  am 
obliged  to  add  for  truth's  sake,  into  much  more 
vivid  desire  and  determination  on  my  part  to  do 
whatever  it  might  lie  in  my  power  to  do,  when  I 
read  some  time  later  the  Autobiography  of  Miss 
Martineau,  in  which  my  aunt,  as  one  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  literary  society  with  which  that  lady  was 
conversant,  is  made  the  subject  of  various  depre- 
ciatory animadversions.  I  have  been  assured  that 
I  felt  these  remarks  much  too  deeply,  and  that  all, 
or  almost  all,  of  Harriet  Martineau's  friends  fared 


x  PREFACE. 

just  as  badly  at  her  hands,  and  were  assailed  with 
the  same  unkindness.  Their  wrongs,  however,  have 
no  doubt  been  felt  by  their  representatives  in  a 
similar  way,  and  some  critics  have  in  fact  been 
found,  at  least  to  protest  against  this  system  of 
posthumous  malice.  Miss  Martineau's  depreciatory 
remarks  were,  in  my  aunt's  case,  entirely  contradicted 
by  the  general  tenor  of  her  letters  to  Mrs.  JAMESON, 
very  many  of  which  are  in  my  possession ;  and  in^ 
themselves  seem  to  me  not  only  so  unjust,  but  so 
uncharacteristic,  as  to  make  doubly  imperative  the 
only  real  contradiction  that  could  be  given  to  them, 
by  a  true  and  genuine  account  of  the  person  belied. 
I  state  this  with  frankness  as  one  of  my  strongest 
motives  for  the  work  I  have  undertaken  ;  feeling 
sure  of  the  sympathy  of  all  who  have  ever  felt  the 
sting  of  undeserved  reproach  addressed  to  those 
they  love,  or  seen  a  name  most  dear  and  sacred  to 
them  treated  with  careless  disrespect. 

For  the  rest,  the  little  book  will  speak  for  itself. 
Mrs.  JAMESON'S  determination  not  to  be  exposed  to 
the  world  in  her  private  capacity  led  her  to  destroy 
many  of  her  private  letters  and  papers.  And  at 
her  death  her  sisters  were  scrupulous  in  carrying  out 
her  wishes  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  long  absence 
from  England  and  separation  from  her  old  friends 
and  old  haunts  have  circumscribed  my  efforts  to 
obtain  from  her  surviving  friends  many  letters  which 
possibly  still  exist. 


PREFACE.  xi 

I  must  therefore  ask  the  indulgence  of  the  reader 
for  gaps  thus  most  unwillingly  left  in  the  record  of 
her  diligent  labours.  But  I  hope  that  I  have  been 
able  to  gather  enough  to  give  some  idea  of  the  life 
of  steady  work,  unostentatious  and  unceasing,  which 
was  hers  from  youth  to  age.  The  story  of  one  who 
kept  a  stout  heart  through  all  the  troubles  that  befell 
her ;  who  kept  her  unhappiness  to  herself,  and  sought 
unceasingly  to  give  happiness  to  all  who  belonged 
to  her ;  who  never  used  her  pen  to  strike  or  to 
wound,  nor  took  advantage  of  its  power  to  avenge 
herself  on  any  who  wronged  her ;  and  who  was,  all 
her  life  long,  the  chief  support  and  consolation  of 
her  family — must  possess  some  interest  for  all  good 
people.  I  do  not  pretend  to  reveal  personal  secrets, 
and  there  is,  I  am  happy  to  say,  no  slander  or  even 
gossip  in  anything  she  has  left  behind  her — nothing 
that  can  sting  or  rankle,  nothing  that  is  unkind  or 
unjust  to  her  friends.  This  volume  pretends  no 
more  than  to  show  the  outline  of  a  life  deprived  of 
all  the  stronger  solaces  of  existence,  yet  sustained 
by  work  and  by  duty,  and  by  the  love  of  a  few 
simple  women,  in  its  career  of  endless  exertion ; 
too  brave  for  discontent,  too  busy  for  despondency, 
and  with  too  much  to  do  for  others  to  be  capable  of 
egotism.  Her  contemporaries  in  general  were  un- 
grudging and  generous  in  their  acknowledgment 
of  the  excellence  of  her  work  and  the  graceful 


xii  PREFACE. 

Womanliness  of  her  pen  ;  and  I  hope  the  new  gene- 
ration who  still  read  her  books  upon  Art,  and  find 
an  interest  in  her  poetical  criticisms  and  spontaneous 
utterances  of  practical  benevolence,  will  like  tcV 
know  what  the  fashion  of  her  life  was,  and  with  how 
much  courage  and  steadfastness  she  went  on  work- 
ing, and  not  faltering,  to  the  end  of  her  career. 

I  have  to  thank,  above  all  others,  for  information 
and  assistance,  my  aunt  Mrs.  Sherwin,  Mrs.  Procter, 
and  Mrs.  JAMESON'S  most  faithful  and  chivalrous 
friend  Robert  Noel,  Esq.,  whose  long  and  carefully 
preserved  correspondence  with  her  has  been  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  me  in  the  preparation  of 
this  little  book. 

GERARDINE  MACPHERSON. 

ROME  :  September  1877. 


After  this  Preface  was  written,  and  when  the  book  was  nearly 
through  the  press,  several  most  interesting  letters  were  received 
through  the  kindness  of  the  niece  of  Miss  Sedgwick,  the  well-known 
American  writer,  which  Mrs.  Macpherson  made  instant  use  of,  and 
would,  without  doubt,  have  gratefully  acknowledged  here.  Her 
representative  can  only  do  so  thus  vaguely,  not  knowing  even  the 
lady's  name. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


THE  AUTHOR  of  this  book  has  not  lived  to  see  it  through 
the  press  ;  and  as  there  is  necessarily  much  reference  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  volume  to  her  personal  life  and 
story,  for  that  reason,  as  well  as  for  the  touching  fact  of 
her  death  while  it  was  yet  scarcely  completed,  it  has  been 
thought  right  to  add  a*few  words  in  memory  of  her.  She 
was  the  eldest  of  two  children,  who  were  the  only  members 
of  Mrs.  Jameson's  family  in  the  second  generation,  and 
was,  from  her  birth  to  her  marriage  at  eighteen,  one  of  the 
chief  objects  of  her  aunt's  care  and  tenderness,  as  will  be 
seen  from  these  pages.  At  that  early  age — to  the  great 
disappointment  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  had  hoped,  with 
that  often-renewed  foolishness  of  love  which  is  not  unusual 
among  parents,  to  keep  her  dear  companion  to  herself  for 
years,  Gerardine  Bate — a  pretty,  charming,  and  accom- 
plished girl — married  Robert  Macpherson,  and  settled  in 
Rome.  There,  many  people  of  all  classes  will  remember 
the  pair  in  their  early  prosperity  and  happiness.  He  was  a 
true  Highlander,  of  good  descent,  the  nearest  male  relative 
of  James  Macpherson  who  made  or  translated  '  Ossian  * ; 
a  man  of  marked  and  headstrong  character,  with  all  the 
qualities,  both  good  and  evil,  of  his  race  ;  little  likely  to 
get  peaceably  or  easily  through  the  world,  but  always 
warm-hearted,  full  of  kindness  and  good  offices  as  long  as 


xiv  POSTSCRIPT. 


they  were  in  his  power,  and  with  much  charm  of  manner 
and  social  aptitude.  His  eyes  failed  him  at  an  early  age, 
and  being  thus  obliged  to  give  up  his  profession  as  an 
artist,  a  happy  suggestion  turned  him  to  the  art  of  photo- 
graphy, then  new,  and  seeming  to  possess  greater  possibili- 
ties than  it  has  ever  realised.  In  this  work  he  was  aided 
vigorously  and  successfully  by  his  wife,  and  his  photographs 
were  the  first  and  finest  that  have  ever  been  executed  of 
Roman  scenery  and  antiquities.  Their  career  was  very 
prosperous  for  a  number  of  years,  by  means  of  this  occu- 
pation which  he  may  almost  be  said  to  have  invented  ;  and 
some  few  pieces  of  good  fortune  also  fell  to  their  share — 
among  others,  the  finding  of  the  great  picture  of  the 
'  Entombment,'  by  Michael  Angelo,  which  now  forms  one 
of  the  chief  ornaments  of  our  National  Gallery,  and  which 
Mr.  Macpherson  kept  for  years  in  a  sacred  seclusion, 
calling  it  '  Gerardine's  fortune.'  Necessity,  however,  com- 
pelled the  abandonment  of  this  precious  reserve,  and  the 
picture  was  sold  at  a  price  below  its  value — a  price  un- 
fortunately soon  swallowed  up  in  the  course  of  misfortunes 
which  clouded  his  later  life. 

He  died  nearly  five  years  ago,  in  the  winter  of  1873, 
leaving  his  wife  to  struggle  as  she  could  through  a  sad 
entanglement  of  debts  and  distress,  with  two  young  children 
dependent  on  her.  She  had  not  herself  recovered  from 
a  long  and  terrible  attack  of  acute  rheumatism,  which  had 
lasted  for  nearly  a  year,  when  she  was  thus  left  a  widow 
and  destitute.  It  was  not  in  her  nature  to  yield  to  dis- 
couragement or  weakness.  Without  a  word  of  complaint 
she  took  up  a  burden  which  might  well  have  appalled  the 


POSTSCRIPT.  xv 


strongest  woman  ;  and  the  record  of  the  years  that  have 
passed  since,  could  it  be  known,   would  be    more   won- 
derful  than   many  a  story  at  which   readers  weep.     She 
dragged  herself  up  out  of  her  suffering,  with  aching  limbs 
and  heart  in  which  the  seeds  of  disease  were  already  sown, 
and  faced  her  evil  fortune  with  the  courage  of  a  hero. 
Whatever  could  be  got  to  do  she  undertook,  brave,  ready, 
cheerful,  unhesitating :  now  giving  lessons  or  readings  in 
English,  now  working   as  an  amanuensis,  now  compiling 
paragraphs  for  the  newspapers,  no  matter  what  it  was — 
nor  ever  grudging  the  service  of  the  night  to  a  sick  friend 
or  neighbour,  after  she  had  toiled,  from  one  scantily  paid 
precarious  occupation  to  another,  all  the  day.     In  the  hot 
summer,  when  everybody  who  could*  escape  the  dangerous 
city  was  out  of  Rome,  she  took,  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
the  post  of  the  correspondent  of  an   English  newspaper, 
who  could  afford  to  find  a  substitute  for  the  deadly  season, 
and  worked  there  through   the   fierce  suns  of  July  and 
August,  too  glad  to  have  her  children's  living  secured  even 
for  so  long.     Thus  she  laboured  on,  though  always  sub- 
ject to  excruciating   attacks  of  rheumatism,  and  to  the 
still   more   alarming  paroxysms   of  gradually   increasing 
heart-disease,  winding  herself  up  for  her  year's  work  by  a 
visit,  when   she  could  manage  it,  to  the  sulphur  baths  of 
Stigliano,  a  wild  and  primitive  place  not  far  from  Rome ; 
now  and  then  nearly  dying,  but  always  struggling  up  and 
to  work  again,  always  bright,  even  gay — never  less  than  a 
delightful  vivacious  companion,  an  accomplished  and  cul- 
tivated woman,  through  all  her  toils.     Last  year  this  book 
was  suggested  to  her,  as  she  has  herself  explained  in  her 


POSTSCRIPT. 


preface,  and  arrangements  were  made  by  which  it  was 
possible  for  her  to  come  '  home,'  and  collect  the  materials 
necessary  for  it.  Here  she  spent  a  little  more  than  three 
months,  suffering  much,  and  alarming  her  friends  by  symp- 
toms more  severe  than  they  had  been  aware  of,  but  herself 
expressing  no  despondency  nor  fear  ;  and,  strong  in  her  in- 
domitable courage,  went  back  again  in  the  beginning  of  July 
to  Rome,  in  order  that  she  might  not  lose  her  two  months' 
work  as  deputy-correspondent.  During  the  winter  this 
volume  was  written,  amid  many  other  toils  and  cares.  Lately 
her  sufferings  had  increased  in  intensity,  and  she  looked 
forward  with  all  the  eagerness  of  feverish  hope  to  the  fetid 
sulphuric  atmosphere  and  boiling  baths  of  Stigliano,  the 
only  thing  which  did  her  rheumatism  good.  On  May  12  she 
went  there,  in  the  country  diligence,  over  the  hilly  roads,  a 
way  of  travelling  very  badly  suited  to  her  suffering  condition. 
But  by  this  time  her  heart-disease  was  too  far  advanced 
to  make  that  desperate  remedy  possible.  She  was  sent  back 
in  a  few  days  '  in  an  alarming  state,'  her  friends  wrote  ; 
and  within  a  week,  on  the  24th,  died  ;  keeping  her  stout 
heart  to  the  end,  writing  reassuring  letters  from  her  death- 
bed, talking  of  'wearing  her  eye  in  a  sling' — neuralgia 
having  seized  it,  in  addition  to  everything  else — and  keep- 
ing up  the  hearts  of  those  who  loved  her  by  this  faint 
Qcho  of  pathetic  laughter,  the  cheerful  humour  that  never 
deserted  her,  to  the  end. 

It  may  be  added  that  the  references  to  herself  which 
occur  in  this  book,  and  which  seem  to  make  this  record 
needful,  were  put  in  against  her  will,  in  deference  to  the 
strongly  expressed  wishes  of  a  friend,  who  did  not  think 


POSTSCRIPT.  xvii 


it  right  to  conceal  a  very  attaching  and  loveable  aspect  of 
Mrs.  Jameson's  character  because  of  the  modesty  of  her 
biographer.  The  only  uneasy  feeling  she  had  about  her 

book  concerned  this.  Only  a  few  weeks  ago  she  wrote  of 
the  passage  in  which  she  herself  principally  figures  as 
being  '  out  of  heart  with  the  last  proofs.'  '  I  feel  as  if  I 
would  so  much  prefer  to  be  nowhere.' 

But  now  there  is  no  modesty  of  personal  reserve  to  be 

offended,  and  what  is  true  may  be  said,  with  an  infinite 

sad  satisfaction  in  the  warfare  over,  though  with  tears  for 

the  woman  dead. 

Mrs.  Macpherson  has  left  behind  her,  besides  two  elder 

sons  who  are  capable  of  caring  for  themselves,  a  girl  and 

a  boy,  still  young   and   helpless,  to  the  guardianship  of 

God,  her  sister,  and  her  friends. 


It  seems  almost  impertinent  to  obtrude  another  name 
into  this  brief  and  melancholy  record  ;  but  I  am  asked  to 
say  that  the  final  superintendence  of  the  publication  of 
this  book,  which  I  have  watched  and  aided  as  I  could 
during  all  its  course,  for  the  sake  of  old  friendship,  and  the 
profound  sympathy  and  affection  I  had  for  its  author,  has 
been  left  in  my  hands.  So  that  if  there  is  any  word  too 
much,  any  explanation  too  little,  the  fault  is  not  hers,  but 
mine. 

M.  O.  W.  OLIPHANT. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  CHILDHOOD  ...  i 

II.  YOUTH  ....  .24 

III.  AFTER  MARRIAGE         .  ...      46 

IV.  MIDDLE  LIFE -85 

V.  AMERICA       .                 .        .                 .  .m 

VI.  'I    HAVE   LOVE  AND   WORK   ENOUGH'     .  '.           .141 

VII.  FRIENDS       .                        .  .184 

VIII.     LABORIOUS  YEARS        ....  .210 

IX.  TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES         ...  .237 

X.  LATER  LIFE         ...  •     265 

XL  HER  LAST  DAYS          ...  .295 

APPENDIX 31.1) 


ANNA    JAMESON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHILDHOOD. 

ANNA  BROWNELL  MURPHY,  the  eldest  daughter  of  a 
young  miniature  painter  of  considerable  talent  and 
popularity,  was  born  in  the  year  1794,  in  Dublin,  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  commotions  of  one  of  the  most 
stormy  periods  of  modern  history.  Her  father,  at 
a  time  when  youth  everywhere  was  revolutionary, 
when  the  wonderful  events  in  France  had  stimulated 
political  agitation  even  where  there  was  less  reason 
for  it  than  in  Ireland,  had  followed  the  fashion  of 
his  day,  and  was  a  patriot,  and  an  adherent  of  the 
1  United  Irishmen '  whose  tragical  attempts  at  revo- 
lution came  to  so  summary  an  end.  Fortunately, 
however,  before  the  explosion  came,  the  young  artist, 
whose  position  and  peaceful  profession  and  circum- 
stances were  little  in  accordance  with  so  wild  an 
enterprise,  was  called  to  England  by  professional 
engagements,  and  thus  escaped,  by  no  wisdom  of  his 

B 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


own,  from  the  network  of  conspiracy  and  betrayal  in 
which  Emmett,  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  and  the 
other  leaders  of  the  rebellion,  were  hurried  to 
destruction.  Brownell  Murphy  had  an  English  wife, 
and  already  three  small  daughters,  hostages  to  for- 
tune, that  might  well  have  kept  a  young  head  of  a 
family  out  of  mischief — though  even  such  guarantees 
were  not  perhaps  certain  in  the  case  of  an  Irishman. 
In  1798,  however,  before  the  last  struggle  began,  he 
came  over  to  Whitehaven  with  his  wife  and  their 
eldest  child,  the  little  Anna,  and  thenceforward  his 
life  and  that  of  his  family  was  spent  in  more  peaceful 
regions,  and  fighting  and  bloodshed  became  out  of 
the  question,  although  his  warmest  sympathies  and 
interest  were  with  the  unfortunate  members  of  the 
revolutionary  party,  several  of  whom  were  his  per- 
sonal friends. 

What  the  inducements  were  which  led  to  this 
removal  I  cannot  tell,  but  it  determined  all  the  after 
life  of  the  family.  The  two  younger  children  were 
left  behind  at  nurse  near  Dublin,  and  only  the  little 
Anna  accompanied  her  parents  to  the  small  Cumber- 
land seaport,  a  place  that  must  have  seemed  a  dreary 
change  from  the  Irish  metropolis,  then  more  of  a 
capital  city,  and  of  much  greater  importance  in  itself 
than  now.  Few  records  of  this  early  period  have 
been  preserved.  The  young  artist  and  his  wife 
remained  for  four  years  in  Cumberland,  where  a 


CHILDHOOD. 


fourth  little  daughter,  Camilla,  now  the  venerable  and 
last  representative  of  the  band  of  sisters,  was  born. 

One  little  anecdote  only  do  I  find  of  Anna 
Murphy  in  this  first  chapter  of  her  existence. 
Among  the  earliest  acquaintances  made  by  the 
strangers  in  Cumberland  was  a  family  of  the  name  of 
Booth,  one  of  the  members  of  which,  so  long  after 
as  in  the  year  1853,  half  a  century  later  than  the 
incident  he  records,  and  when  the  friends  had  almost 
forgotten  each  other,  sent  to  the  then  famous  writer, 
Mrs.  Jameson,  a  miniature  of  her  mother  painted  by 
her  father,  which  had  come  into  the  possession  of  his 
family,  and  which  became  the  occasion  of  a  renewal 
of  intercourse.  The  little  girl  remembered  as  an 
interesting  child,  after  having  been  so  long  lost  sight 
of,  had  been  thus  brought  back  to  her  old  acquaint- 
ances by  her  literary  reputation.  The  letter  of  this 
gentleman  alludes  to  an  incident  which  no  doubt  had 
amused  the  friendly  circle  at  the  time,  and  which  the 
subject  of  it  recollected  clearly  enough  when  it  was 
brought  to  her  mind. 

There  is  a  remote  period  in  every  one's  life  (writes  this 
gentleman)  that  answers  in  some  sort  to  the  half-fabulous 
period  of  remote  history — to  that  far-off  time  belongs  all  I 
know  of  your  visits  to  Mr.  Booth  ;  it  is  little  more  than  a 
vague  impression  received  through  others  of  the  great  regard 
and  interest  your  friends  and  yourself  had  excited.  You 
were  spoken  of  as  having  thoughts  beyond  your  years,  and 
as  very  ready  to  ask  all  sorts  of  questions  that  nobody 

B  2 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


could  answer.  You  were  a  somnambulist  too ;  on  one 
occasion  you  alarmed  the  house  by  wandering  away  no  one 
knew  whither,  and  after  a  long  and  anxious  search  they 
found  you  sleeping  in  an  old  piece  of  furniture. 

The  piece  of  furniture  in  question  was  an  anti- 
quated clock-case,  and  the  child  had  not  gone  thither 
in  a  state  of  somnambulism,  as  her  friend  supposed, 
but  had  fled  instinctively  to  a  favourite  play-place 
for  shelter,  during  a  fit  of  childish  panic.  The 
bedroom  in  which  she  slept  beside  her  mother  and 
the  baby  sister  born  at  Whitehaven  having  taken 
fire  in  the  night,  Anna  fled  to  her  usual  hiding-place, 
and  there,  child-like,  fell  asleep  in  a  fancied  sense 
of  security. 

Speaking  of  her  own  childhood  in  one  of  her 
latest  publications,  Mrs.  Jameson  alludes  to  the 
suffering  she  long  experienced  from  her  exceeding 
timidity  during  the  night  hours,  but  does  not  hint  at 
anything  like  somnambulism.  In  the  absence  of 
other  records  we  must  go  to  her  own  statements  for 
an  account  of  the  influences  that  chiefly  swayed  her 
child  life.  She  tells  us  that — 

In  memory  I  can  go  back  to  a  very  early  age.  I  per- 
fectly remember  being  sung  to  sleep,  and  can  remember 
even  the  tune  which  was  sung  to  me — blessings  on  the 
voice  that  sang  it !  I  was  an  affectionate,  but  not,  as  I 
now  think,  a  loveable  or  an  attractive  child.  I  did  not, 
like  the  little  Mozart,  ask  of  every  one  around  me,  '  Do 
you  love  me  ? '  The  instinctive  question  was  rather,  '  Can 


CHILDHOOD. 


I  love  you  ? '  With  a  good  temper  there  was  the  capacity 
of  strong,  deep,  silent  resentment,  and  a  vindictive  spirit  of 
rather  a  peculiar  kind.  I  recollect  that  when  one  of  those 
set  over  me1  inflicted  what  then  appeared  a  most  horrible 
injury  and  injustice,  the  thoughts  of  vengeance  haunted  my 
fancy  for  months  ;  but  it  was  an  inverted  sort  of  vengeance. 
I  imagined  the  house  of  my  enemy  on  fire,  and  rushed 
through  the  flames  to  rescue  her.  She  was  drowning,  and 
I  leaped  into  the  deep  water  to  draw  her  forth.  She  was 
pining  in  prison,  and  I  forced  bars  and  bolts  to  deliver  her. 
If  this  were  magnanimity,  it  was  not  the  less  vengeance,  for 
observe,  I  always  fancied  evil  and  shame  and  humiliation 
to  my  adversary,  to  myself  the  role  of  superiority  and 
gratified  pride. 

There  was  in  my  childish  mind  another  cause  of  suffer- 
ing besides  those  I  have  mentioned  ;  less  acute,  but  more 
permanent,  and  always  unacknowledged.  It  was  fear  ;  fear 
of  darkness  and  supernatural  influences.  As  long  as  I  can 
remember  anything,  I  remember  these  horrors  of  my  in- 
fancy. How  they  had  been  awakened  I  do  not  know  ;  they 
were  never  revealed.  I  had  heard  other  children  ridiculed 
for  such  fears,  and  held  my  peace.  At  first  these  haunting, 
thrilling,  stifling  terrors  were  vague ;  afterwards  the  form 
varied  ;  but  one  of  the  most  permanent  was  the  Ghost  in 
1  Hamlet' 2  There  was  a  volume  of  Shakespeare  lying  about, 
in  which  was  an  engraving  I  have  not  seen  since,  but  it 
remains  distinct  in  my  mind  as  a  picture.  On  one  side 
stood  Hamlet  with  his  hair  on  end,  literally  'like  quills 
upon  the  fretful  porcupine/  and  one  hand  with  all  the  fingers 
outspread.  On  the  other  strode  the  Ghost,  encased  in 

1  Her  governess. 

a  In  the  memoir  of  Sara  Coleridge,  published  in  1873,  occurs,  at 
page  25,  a  description  of  similar  terrors  experienced  in  childhood  by 
her  mother,  including  the  special  apparition  of  the  Ghost  in  '  Hamlet.' 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


armour  with  nodding  plumes ;  one  ringer  pointing  for- 
wards, and  all  surrounded  with  a  supernatural  light.  Oh 
that  spectre  !  for  three  years  it  followed  me  up  and  down 
the  dark  staircase,  or  stood  by  my  bed  ;  only  the  blessed 
light  had  power  to  exorcise  it.  How  it  was  that  I  knew, 
while  I  trembled  and  quaked,  that  it  was  unreal ;  never 
cried  out ;  never  expostulated  ;  never  confessed — I  do  not 
know. 

In  daylight  I  was  not  only  fearless,  but  audacious, 
inclined  to  defy  all  power  and  brave  all  danger — that  is,  all 
danger  I  could  see.  I  remember  volunteering  to  lead  the 
way  through  a  herd  of  cattle  (among  which  was  a  dan- 
gerous bull,  the  terror  of  the  neighbourhood),  armed  only 
with  a  little  stick  ;  but  first  I  said  the  Lord's  prayer  fer- 
vently. In  the  ghastly  night  I  never  prayed.  These 
visionary  sufferings  in  some  form  or  another  pursued  me 
till  I  was  nearly  twelve  years  old. 

In  1802  the  family  made  another  change,  going 
this  time  to  the  more  important  town  of  Newcastle- 
on-Tyne.  Here  it  would  seem  the  young  painter's 
prospects  became  more  assured,  for  the  little  girls 
who  had  been  left  in  Ireland  were  sent  for,  and  the 
family  reunited.  These  children,  still  very  young, 
came  from  Dublin  in  the  charge  of  a  young  lady 
who  was  for  some  years  to  undertake  their  educa- 
tion, and  who  was  Anna's  first  instructress.  They 
settled  down  in  a  modest  set  of  rooms  over  the  shop 
of  the  chief  bookseller  of  the  place,  a  Mr.  Miller, 
who  afterwards  came  to  London,  and,  setting  up  as 
publisher  in  Albemarle  Street,  was  the  immediate 
precursor  of  the  famous  John  Murray  himself. 


CHILDHOOD. 


Mr.  Murphy  soon  became  known  and  esteemed  in 
this  new  home,  and  acquired  many  friends.  At  the 
same  time  his  growing  reputation  called  him  fre- 
quently away  from  his  house  for  weeks  together  on 
professional  visits  to  his  patrons,  sometimes,  as  will 
be  seen,  accompanied  by  his  wife.  He  invariably 
returned  from  these  expeditions  with  portfolios  full 
of  sketches  from  nature,  done  at  leisure  moments 
for  his  own  special  delight  and  pleasure,  several  of 
which,  still  in  the  possession  of  his  family,  show  great 
talent,  though  this  was  not  the  branch  of  art  in  which 
he  was  known.  During  these  interregnums,  how- 
ever, all  did  not  invariably  go  well  with  the  four 
little  girls  and  their  young  governess,  a  very  accom- 
plished and  clever,  but  not,  it  would  seem — at  least, 
in  the  opinion  of  her  small  charges — a  very  lenient 
or  considerate  ruler.  She  was  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  Duke  of  Leinster's  secretaries.  Her  mother, 
a  Frenchwoman,  had  educated  the  Ladies  Fitz- 
gerald, and  had  been  permitted  to  bring  up  her  own 
child  conjointly  with  her  noble  pupils.  Careful  and 
conscientious  even  to  a  fault,  Miss  Yokely  proved 
an  efficient  if  over-strict  teacher ;  and  she  had  the 
entire  control  of  Anna's  mental  instruction  for  four 
years.  She  obtained  the  respect  and  obedience  that 
she  rigorously  exacted,  and  laid  the  foundations  of 
firm  principles  and  exact  memory ;  but  she  never 
won  the  child's  affection.  The  recollection  of  her 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


instructions  excited  a  certain  feeling  of  gratitude 
later  on  in  life,  when  the  benefit  of  always  remem- 
bering correctly  what  she  had  read  had  become  a 
source  of  profit  and  of  pleasure  to  her  former  pupil ; 
but  with  the  peculiarities  of  disposition  regarding 
which  Mrs.  Jameson  has  herself  spoken  so  openly, 
it  is  scarcely  strange  that  no  strong  tie  of  love  arose 
between  them  during  those  important  years  of  a 
child's  life,  from  the  age  of  eight  to  twelve.  Mrs. 
Jameson  says  herself:  '  I  had  a  very  strict  and  very 
accomplished  governess,  one  of  the  cleverest  women 
I  have  ever  met  with  in  my  life ;  but  nothing  of 
this '  (alluding  here  to  her  propensity  to  reverie  and 
an  inner  life)  '  was  known  or  even  suspected  by  her, 
and  I  exulted  in  possessing  something  which  her 
power  could  not  reach.' 

Thus,  with  the  parents  often  out  of  reach  and 
the  sway  of  their  representative  not  much  beloved 
by  her  little  subjects,  domestic  incidents  of  a  thrill- 
ing character  were  apt  to  happen.  Here  is  one 
which  remains  dimly — in  its  confusion  of  baby  ex- 
citement, discomfiture,  daring,  and  distress — in  the 
mind  of  the  last  survivor.  By  age  alike  and  by 
nature,  Anna  was  the  leader  of  the  little  troop  of 
girls,  and  evidently  exercised  her  power  with  the 
charming  absoluteness  of  unquestioned  and  bene- 
ficent despotism.  They  had  all  gone  with  their 
governess  to  a  village  called  Kenton,  during  one  of 


CHILDHOOD. 


the  absences  of  their  father  and  mother  in  Scotland, 
probably  for  the  benefit  of  the  country  air.  But 
Miss  Yokely  in  her  turn  accepted  an  invitation  to 
visit  friends,  and  the  little  girls  were  left  alone  for 
two  or  three  days  under  the  charge  of  the  people  of 
the  house  in  which  they  lived.  These  temporary 
guardians  interfered  to  prevent  some  delightful  com- 
position of  mud-pies  on  which  the  younger  children 
had  set  their  hearts,  and  the  wail  that  followed  the 
prohibition  came  to  the  ears  of  the  elder  sister — a 
visionary  princess  of  less  than  nine  summers — who, 
fired  by  the  wrongs  of  the  babies,  and  probably  urged 
on  by  some  private  injuries  of  her  own,  and  a  longing 
for  the  softer  sway  of  the  mother  whom  all  their  lives 
the  sisters  idolised,  immediately  conceived  a  plan  of 
escape.  To  Anna,  as  to  most  other  imaginative 
children,  life  was  tout  simple  ;  she  had  not  a  moment's 
hesitation  in  proposing  the  easy  plan  that  would  set 
all  right.  It  was  clear  that  the  tyranny  of  a  landlady 
was  not  to  be  endured.  With  what  flutterings  of 
heart  must  the  bold  project  have  been  listened  to  ! 
But  what  Anna  said  was  sacred  to  the  little  sisters, 
and  not  to  be  contested.  She  unfolded  her  plan, 
after  binding  them  all  to  secrecy,  and  the  four  small 
conspirators  drew  close  together  in  breathless  awe 
and  excitement.  This  plan — what  could  be  more 
natural  and  easy  ? — was,  that  they  should  all  start 
instantly,  that  very  evening,  to  join  their  father  and 


io  ANNA  JAMESON. 

mother  in  Scotland.     It  would  be  the  easiest  thing 

o 

in  the  world,  if  once  they  could  get  away  safely. 
They  must  be  sure  and  eat  all  the  bread  and  butter 
they  possibly  could  at  tea,  and  stow  away  in  the 
front  and  pockets  of  their  frocks  whatever  amount  of 
slices  could  be  secretly  abstracted  from  the  plates ; 
then,  each  provided  with  a  tiny  bundle  containing  a 
change  for  Sunday  (it  chanced  to  be  Saturday,  and 
the  clean  things  had  just  come  from  the  wash  and 
were  not  yet  put  away,  and  it  did  not  occur,  even 
to  the  head  conspirator,  that  the  change  might  be 
made  before  they  went  with  less  inconvenience), 
they  would  start  on  their  journey.  As  the  eldest 
and  strongest,  Anna  charged  her  own  shoulders  with 
the  weight  of  a  many-caped  gig-cloak  (presumably  a 
garment  of  the  period)  belonging  to  their  governess, 
under  cover  of  which  they  could,  she  said,  all  sleep 
at  nights  under  the  hedges ;  and  as  for  food,  when 
their  own  slices  of  bread  gave  out,  they  need  only 
knock  at  some  cottage  door  on  their  way,  and  say 
they  were  four  little  children  going  to  Scotland  to 
find  their  father  and  mother,  and  no  one  would  re- 
fuse them  a  drink  of  milk  and  a  crust,  Anna  was 
quite  sure. 

All  went  as  smoothly  as  possible,  no  suspicions 
were  roused,  and  the  little  girls  stole  softly  from  the 
house,  the  nine-year-old  leader,  with  her  heavier 
burden,  encouraging  the  others  till  their  faltering 


CHILDHOOD.  ii 


footsteps  broke  into  a  run,  and  they  thus  hurried, 
one  after  another,  down  the  village  street.  But  the 
unusual  appearance  of  the  party  soon  attracted  atten- 
tion, and  first  one  and  then  another  '  wondered '  to 
see  '  the  little  Murphys  running  off  by  themselves.' 
Some  gossip  more  energetic  than  the  rest  took  it 
upon  herself  to  give  the  alarm  ;  and,  greatly  to  Anna's 
chagrin  and  disappointment,  they  were  pursued  and 
captured  before  meeting  with  a  single  adventure, 
save  that  one  of  the  little  bundles  fell  into  a  ditch, 
and  when  fished  out  again  by  herculean  efforts,  one 
of  Camilla's  little  red  shoes  proved,  alas !  to  have 
been  lost  for  ever. 

In  1803  tne  family  came  to  London,  where,  or  in 
the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  which,  their  per- 
manent home  was  henceforward  to  be.  Their  first 
resting-place  was  at  Hanwell,  one  of  the  prettiest 
spots  on  that  side  of  London,  where  a  few  soft  slopes 
diversify  the  flatness  of  the  rich  green  country  and 
give  a  gentle  picturesqueness  to  the  smooth  .fields  and 
luxuriant  trees.  The  district  must  have  remained  dear 
to  their  fancy,  for  at  a  later  period  we  find  the  last 
members  of  the  family  returning  to  its  vicinity  and 
taking  up  their  abode  in  Ealing.  There  the  governess 
who  had  ruled  so  strictly  and  conscientiously,  yet 
with  so  little  love,  left  her  little  pupils,  and  by  a 
curious  transformation  became  their  aunt,  having 
married  Mr.  Murphy's  brother.  In  the  year  1806  or 


12  ANNA  JAMESON. 

thereabout,  they  transferred  their  residence  to  town, 
establishing  themselves  in  the  busy  region  of  Pall 
Mall.  Here  Anna's  education  progressed,  chiefly 
at  her  own  will  and  pleasure,  with  an  extensive 
breadth  and  desultory  character  as  conspicuous  as 
its  ambition.  Those  were  not  the  days  of  examina- 
tions, nor  had  it  seemed  to  girls  as  yet  expedient  or 
necessary  to  fit  themselves  for  the  same  classic  tests 
as  have  been  always  considered  indispensable  to 
young  men.  Anna's  lively  mind  and  superabundant 
energy  procured  for  her  a  simpler  but  perhaps  more 
characteristic  training.  She  worked  hard,  but  fit- 
fully, at  French,  Italian,  and  even  Spanish,  uncon- 
sciously preparing  the  way  for  her  future  labours. 
A  more  whimsical  part  of  her  studies  was  that 
which  led  her  to  take  the  most  intense  interest  in 
the  works'  of  Sir  William  Jones  which  were  then 
appearing,  and  which  disclosed  to  many  English 
readers  for  the  first  time  the  romances  of  India  and 
Persia,  the  oldest  tales  of  the  world.  Anna  Murphy 
was  seized  with  a  craze  for  this  new  and  entrancing 
revelation  of  antique  lore  and  literature.  It  is  re- 
lated by  her  one  surviving  sister,  that  she  had  a 
map  of  India  hung  in  the  sleeping-room  they  occu- 
pied together,  and  that  it  was  a  favourite  fancy  of 
hers  to  keep  the  other  little  girls  in  active  exercise 
tracing  different  routes  from  town  to  town  across 
this  map,  while  she  herself  travelled  in  imagination 


CHILDHOOD.  13 


along  the  eastern  roads  which  these  dutiful  little 
pioneers  opened  up  for  their  enterprising  leader. 
While  the  others  thus  worked  out  her  ideal  itine- 
rary, she  read  aloud  to  the  admiring  group  the 
passages  in  the  book  which  described  the  different 
points  of  the  journey.  These  travels  of  fancy,  how- 
ever, did  not  exhaust  her  enthusiasm.  The  small 
woman  of  genius,  carried  away  by  her  fertile  fancy 
and  fervid  nature,  rushed  incontinently  into  com- 
position. She  began  to  write  a  story  on  Eastern 
subjects  which  she  called  '  Faizy/  a  story  which 
immediately  became  the  absorbing  interest  of  the 
nursery.  The  little  audience  put  their  golden  heads 
together  with  an  earnest  faith,  such  as  elder  readers 
never  quite  attain  to,  over  the  instalments  of  this 
wondrous  tale  which  the  author  condescendingly 
read  to  them  as  it  went  on ;  and  we  may  easily 
suppose  what  an  unfailing  source  of  interest  was 
this  family  romance,  the  father  and  mother  being 
apparently  admitted  to  a  share  in  the  gratification  it 
afforded. 

I  may  add  certain  further  details  drawn  from  her 
own  recollections  of  her  childhood,  which  show  the 
fanciful  girl  better  than  anything  that  could  be 
written  by  another  hand  : 

In  regard  to  truth — always  such  a  difficulty  in  educa- 
tion— I  certainly  had,  as  a  child,  and  like  most  children, 
confused  ideas  about  it.  I  had  a  more  distinct  and  ab- 


i4  ANNA  JAMESON. 

solute  idea  of  honour  than  of  truth — a  mistake  into  which 
our  conventional  morality  leads  those  who  educate  and  are 
educated.  I  knew  very  well,  in  a  general  way,  that  to  tell 
a  lie  was  wicked ';  to  lie  for  my  own  profit  or  pleasure,  or  to 
the  hurt  of  others,  was,  according  to  my  infant  code  of 
morals,  worse  than  wicked, — it  was  dishonourable.  But  I 
had  no  compunction  about  telling  fictions,  inventing  scenes 
and  circumstances  which  I  related  as  real,  and  with  a  keen 
sense  of  triumphant  enjoyment  in  seeing  the  listener  taken 
in  by  such  an  ingenious  concatenation  of  possibilities.  In 
this  respect  '  Ferdinand  Mendez  Pinto,  that  liar  of  the  first 
magnitude,'  was  nothing  in  comparison  to  me.  I  must 
have  been  twelve  years  old  before  my  conscience  was  first 
awakened  to  the  necessity  of  truth  as  a  principle,  as  well  as 
its  holiness  as  a  virtue.  Afterwards,  having  to  set  right  the 
minds  of  others  cleared  my  own  mind  on  this  and  some 
other  important  points. 

About  religion  :  I  was  taught  religion  as  children  used 
to  be  taught  it  in  my  younger  days,  and  are  taught  it  still 
in  some  cases,  I  believe — through  the  medium  of  creeds  and 
catechisms.  I  read  the  Bible  too  early,  and  too  indiscri- 
minately, and  too  irreverently.  Even  the  New  Testament 
was  too  early  placed  in  my  hands,  too  early  made  a  lesson- 
book,  as  the  custom  then  was.  The  letter  of  the  Scriptures, 
the  words,  were  familiarised  to  me  by  sermonising  and  dog- 
matising long  before  I  could  enter  into  the  spirit.  Mean- 
time, happily,  another  religion  was  growing  up  in  my  heart 
which,  strangely  enough,  seemed  to  me  quite  apart  from 
that  which  was  taught ;  which,  indeed,  I  never  in  any  way 
regarded  as  the  same  which  I  was  taught  when  I  stood  up 
wearily  on  a  Sunday  to  repeat  the  collect  and  say  the 
catechism.  It  was  quite  another  thing.  Not  only  the 
taught  religion  and  the  sentiment  of  faith  and  adoration 
were  never  combined,  but  it  never  for  years  entered  into 


CHILDHOOD.  15 


my  mind  to  combine  them ;  the  first  remained  extraneous, 
the  latter  had  gradually  taken  root  in  my  life  even  from  the 
moment  my  mother  joined  my  little  hands  in  prayer.  The 
histories  out  of  the  Bible  (the  Parables  especially)  were, 
however,  enchanting  to  me,  though  my  interpretation  of 
them  was  in  some  instances  the  very  reverse  of  correct  or 
orthodox.  To  my  infant  conception  our  Lord  was  a  being 
who  had  come  down  from  heaven  to  make  people  good, 
and  to  tell  them  beautiful  stories.  And  though  no  pains 
were  spared  to  indoctrinate  me,  and  all  my  pastors  and 
masters  took  it  for  granted  that  my  ideas  were  quite  satis- 
factory, nothing  could  be  more  confused  and  heterodox. 
Educators  are  not  always  aware,  I  think,  how  acute  are  the 
perceptions,  and  how  permanent  the  memories,  of  children. 
I  remember  experiments  tried  upon  my  temper  and  feelings, 
and  how  I  was  made  aware  of  this  by  their  being  repeated, 
and  in  some  instances  spoken  of,  before  me.  Music,  to 
which  I  was  early  and  peculiarly  sensitive,  was  sometimes 
made  the  medium  of  these  experiments.  Discordant  sounds 
were  not  only  hateful,  but  made  me  turn  white  and  cold, 
and  sent  the  blood  backward  to  my  heart ;  and  certain 
tunes  had  a  curious  effect — they  became  intolerable  by 
repetition,  they  turned  up  some  hidden  emotion  within  me 
too  strong  to  be  borne.  It  could  not  have  been  from  as- 
sociation, which  I  believe  to  be  a  principal  element  in  the 
emotion  excited  by  music.  I  was  too  young  for  that. 
What  associations  could  such  a  baby  have  had  with  plea- 
sure or  pain  ?  Or  could  it  be  possible  that  associations 
with  some  former  state  of  existence  awoke  up  into  sound  ? 
That  our  life  'hath  elsewhere  its  beginning  and  cometh 
from  afar,'  is  a  belief,  or  at  least  an  instinct,  in  some  minds, 
which  music,  and  only  music,  seems  to  thrill  into  conscious- 
ness. At  this  time,  when  I  was  about  five  or  six  years  old, 
Mrs.  Arkwright — she  was  then  Fanny  Kemble — used  to 


1 6  ANNA  JAMESON. 

come  to  our  house,  and  used  to  entrance  me  with  her  sing- 
ing. I  had  a  sort  of  adoration  for  her,  such  as  an  ecstatic 
votary  might  have  for  a  Saint  Cecilia.  I  trembled  with 
pleasure  when  I  only  heard  her  step.  But  her  voice — it 
has  charmed  hundreds  since  ;  whom  has  it  ever  moved  to 
a  more  genuine  passion  of  delight  than  the  little  child  that 
crept  silent  and  tremulous  to  her  side  ?  And  she  was  fond 
of  me,  fond  of  singing  to  me,  and,  it  must  be  confessed, 
fond  also  of  playing  these  experiments  upon  me.  The 
music  of  '  Paul  and  Virginia '  was  then  in  vogue,  and  there 
was  one  air — a  very  simple  air — in  that  opera,  which,  after 
the  first  few  bars,  always  made  me  stop  my  ears  and  rush 
out  of  the  room.  I  became  at  last  aware  that  this  was 
sometimes  done  by  particular  desire  to  please  my  parents, 
or  to  amuse  and  interest  others  by  the  display  of  such 
vehement  emotion. 

In  addition  to  these  reminiscences,  various  legends 
of  this  fabulous  age  remain  yet  in  the  recollection 
of  the  survivor,  to  whom  at  eighty  the  memory  of 
all  the  doings  of  the  little  sisterhood  is  still  so  clear. 
Anna  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  leader  in  all  the 
children  did.  She  it  was  who  settled  how  long  a 
time  was  necessary  for  the  learning  of  the  lessons,  a 
process  very  easy  to  herself,  which,  with  delightful 
childish  inconsequence,  she  decided  must  be  equally 
easy  for  her  sisters.  What  could  they  possibly  want 
with  longer  time  ?  At  the  word  of  command  from 
the  little  despot  the  obedient  and  admiring,  if  some- 
times rueful  students  put  away  their  books  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  romps  which  she  personally  conducted. 


CHILDHOOD.  17 


But  tradition  does  not  say  whether  Anna  bore  the 
penalty  when  Louisa's  or  Camilla's  little  lessons  were 
insufficiently  conned,  as  ought  to  have  been  the  case 
in  strict  justice.  That  they  were  all,  however,  loyally 
faithful  to  her  and  devout  in  their  belief  in  the  elder 
sister,  whose  high  spirit  and  boundless  imagination 
inspired  the  little  band,  is  very  evident ;  and  they 
seem  never  to  have  murmured  against  the  scrapes 
she  led  them  into.  '  Faizy '  got  itself  finished  sooner 
or  later,  though  tradition  does  not  say  when ;  and 
the  story,  chiefly  written  at  twelve  years  old,  was 
afterwards  retouched  and  published  at  a  later  date 
when  the  young  author  had  become  known.1  This 
precocious  study  of  the  visionary  East  brought  the 
little  sketch  and  its  writer  under  the  observation 
of  a  not  un notable  person  in  his  day,  Mr.  James 
Forbes,  the  author  of  the  '  Oriental  Memoirs,'  and 
commonly  known  at  that  time  as  '  Oriental  Forbes,' 
but  now  chiefly  remarkable  as  being  the  grandfather 
and  earliest  instructor  of  Count  Charles  de  Monta- 
lembert. 

The  story  of '  Faizy '  was  not,  however,  the  earliest 
symptom  of  the  literary  faculty  in  the  little  Anna's 
life.  In  looking  over  the  yellow  and  faded  leaves 
of  a  packet  of  old  letters,  there  were  found  by  chance 
— inscribed  in  large  unsteady  childish  handwriting 

1  In  the  collection  known  as  '  Visits  and  Sketches  at  Home  and 
Abroad.'     1834. 


1 8  ANNA  JAMESON. 

across  the  back  of  a  letter  written  by  no  less  fair  a 
hand  than  that  of  the  beautiful  Georgiana,  Duchess 
of  Devonshire,  and  conveying  an  order  to  the  house- 
keeper at  Chiswick  to  admit  Mr.  Murphy  to  see  and 
copy  some  of  the  pictures  there — some  verses  em- 
bodying the  most  patriotic  sentiments ;  heroic  lines 
which  show  more  spirit  than  grammar  perhaps,  and 
which  we  are  tempted  to  print  as  her  earliest  sur- 
viving utterance.  The  reader  could  not  but  smile 
kindly  upon  this  vague  and  grandiloquent  effusion 
of  childish  hero-worship,  could  he  see  the  evident 
effort  made  by  those  small  fingers  to  write  plainly 
and  clearly  as  became  the  distinguished  subject.  It 
bears  date  1805  : 

With  Fame  and  Victory  following  in  his  train, 
COLLINGWOOD  veiws l  his  native  land  again  ! 
To  songs  of  praise  each  joyous  harp  is  strung, 
And  happiness  resounds  from  every  tongue. 
E'en  I,  unskilled  in  poesy's  magic  art, 
Will  sing  brave  Collingwood's  exalted  part  ; 
For  the  first  time  to  him  will  tune  my  lyre, 
While  NELSON  shall  my  humble  verse  inspire. 
Now  raised  alike  in  glory  and  in  name — 
Britain  shall  boast  another  son  of  Fame, 
Who,  born  each  honour  from  Napoleon's  head 
To  snatch,  and  deck  the  galiant  Nelson  dead, 
As  yet  another  champion  bold  shall  rise 
And  as  a  hero,  claim  the  exalted  skies : 
While  Victory  loud  proclaims,  though  Nelson 's  slain 
Still  Britain  reigns  o'er  Neptune's  boisterous  main. 


1  The  mistaken  spelling  of  the  childish  MS.  is  retained. 


CHILDHOOD.  19 

Though  first  in  honour  and  though  first  in  place, 
Though  first  in  favour  and  though  first  in  grace, 
Though  Fame  shall  weave  fresh  laurels  for  his  head, 
Yet  still  he  mourns  victorious  Nelson  dead. 
But  rise  !  nor  yield  to  unavailing  greif ; 
Though  yet  we  mourn  the  dear  departed  chcif ; 
'Tis  you  must  snatch  from  a  usurper's  hand 
Those  rights  which  Freedom  gave  to  every  land. 
Our  second  hero  every  danger  braves, 
And  conquering  Britain  dares  the  bellowing  waves, 
Blesses  the  place  where  Collingwood  drew  breath, 
But  mourns  the  hour  when  Nelson  sunk  in  death. 

The  other  recollections  of  this  early  life  all  carry 
out  the  same  impression  of  high  spirit  and  active  in- 
telligence. Camilla  remembers  still  how  Anna,  with 
her  head  erect  and  her  blue  eyes  gleaming,  would 
declaim  the  well-known  verses — 

Thy  spirit,  Independence,  let  me  share, 
Lord  of  the  lion  heart  and  eagle  eye  ; 

Thy  steps  I'll  follow  with  my  bosom  bare, 

Nor  heed  the  storm  that  howls  along  the  sky — 

till  the  other  feebler  voices  of  the  nursery  party  had 
learned  to  lisp  them  after  her,  a  little  awed  and 
wondering  at  their  own  heroism.  It  is  evident  that 
this  love  of  independence  was  no  mockery  in  the  case 
of  Anna.  And  here  I  may  bring  in  another  simple 
home  legend  of  this  period  which  shows  how  she  car- 
ried out,  or  would  fain  have  carried  out,  her  principles. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  the  artist's  family, 
dependent  as  it  was  upon  the  fruits  of  his  delightful 


20  ANNA  JAMESON. 


but  precarious  profession,  had  its  ups  and  downs 
like  others  ;  and  no  doubt  when  the  struggling  pair 
ventured  to  bring  their  little  children  to  London, 
and  set  themselves  up  in  such  an  expensive  region' 
as  that  of  Pall  Mall,  there  would  be  many  thoughts 
and  talks  about  economy,  and  consultations  between 
the  father  and  mother — not  unaccompanied  by  la- 
mentations over  those  ever  multiplying  household 
expenses  which  oppress  poor  gentlefolks,  and  the  dear- 
ness  of  everything,  a  subject  of  complaint  which  seems 
to  increase  year  by  year.  Perhaps,  some  evening, 
Anna,  being  the  eldest  and  sitting  up  a  little  longer 
than  the  rest,  had  listened  unnoticed  to  one  of  these 
anxious  talks  ;  and,  intent  as  she  was  on  '  following 
with  her  bosom  bare '  whithersoever  the  noble  spirit 
of  Independence  might  lead  her,  had  been  fired  by 
an  instant  and  heroic  resolution.  .  Where  she  may 
have  heard  of  the  lace-making  of  Flanders  we  are 
not  told ;  probably  an  account  in  some  encyclopaedia 
or  periodical  of  the  time  had  caught  her  eager  imagi- 
nation and  suggested  the  idea.  However  that  may 
be,  she  gathered  her  sisters  together  on  the  first 
occasion  possible,  and  pointed  out  to  them,  with  all 
the  eloquence  of  a  popular  leader,  sure  of  the  faith  of 
his  disciples,  the  necessities  of  the  position.  Their 
father  and  mother  were,  she  said,  anxious  about  the 
family  means,  and  striving  hard  to  make  ends  meet ; 
while  here  were  four  girls,  from  twelve  downwards, 


CHILDHOOD.  21 


eating  the  bread  of  idleness.  By  this  time  another 
baby  had  been  added  to  the  band,  a  tiny  Charlotte 
in  her  cradle,  too  young  by  far  to  have  any  heroic 
plan  suggested  to  her.  Such  a  plan,  however,  Anna 
had  all  ready  to  lay  before  the  others.  It  was  that 
she  and  her  sisters  should  set  out  for  Brussels,  learn 
the  art  of  lace-making,  work  at  it  at  once  successfully, 
and  achieve  in  the  shortest  possible  time  a  fortune 
with  which  to  set  their  parents  perfectly  at  ease  for 
the  future.  Once  more  the  proceeding  was  toiit 
simple.  She  had  it  all  quite  clear  and  easy  as 
on  that  earlier  occasion.  The  plan  now  would  be 
to  take  their  course  straight  along  by  the  banks  of 
the  Paddington  Canal  as  far  as  it  went,  then  enquire 
which  was  the  nearest  road  to  the  coast,  and  there 
take  ship  for  Belgium.  There  was  not,  however, 
that  unanimity  in  the  council  which  generally  pre- 
vailed. Eliza,  the  next  daughter,  declared  directly 
that  she  for  one  could  not  be  spared ;  that  the 
mother  and  the  baby  could  not  get  on  without  her, 
and  that  she  must  stay  behind.  But  the  others  em- 
braced the  plan,  though  somewhat  tremulous  was 
the  adhesion  of  little  Camilla — she  whose  red  shoe 
had  perished  in  the  previous  adventure.  The  pro- 
ject was  fully  matured  and  even  communicated  to 
the  parents,  who  seem  prudently  to  have  made  no 
effort  to  restrain  the  children's  enthusiasm,  but  per- 
mitted everything  to  go  on  as  suggested.  Their 


22  ANNA  JAMESON. 

bags    were    packed,    and    the    last   evening    came. 
Camilla,  timid  and  always  wavering,  would  willingly 
have  renounced  her  share  in  the  glorious  enterprise  ; 
but   Anna  was   eager,  and    Louisa   firm.     In   this 
mingled  state  of  feeling  the  little  adventurers  put  on 
their  evening  frocks  and  their  pretty  ribbons,  and 
came  downstairs  to  dessert  for  what  was  to  be  the 
last  time.     It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  gleam  of  half 
fun,  half  sympathy,  that  shone  in  the  father's  eye  as 
he  drew  the  children  about  him.     Louisa,  supposed 
in  the  family  to  be  his  favourite,  had  some  wine  put 
into  her  glass.     It  was  a  sort  of  farewell  pledge  at 
their  parting,   '  for  there's  no  telling  when  we  may 
be  together  again,  my  darling,'  he  said.     This,  how- 
ever, was  too  much  for  the  child,  whose  heart  sank 
into  her  shoes  at  such  an  address,  and  whose  in- 
spiration was  all  Anna's,  not  her  own.     She  gave  a 
loud  sob    and   threw  her  arms  round   her   father's 
neck  :    '  Oh,  papa !  I   will  never,  never  leave  you,' 
she  cried.     The  crisis  was  too  much  for  a  child's 
courage;   Camilla,  already  so  feeble  in  her  adhesion, 
gave  in  on  the  spot ;  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that 
Anna,  left  alone  in  her  valour,  did  not  go  forth  upon 
this   forlorn   hope   by  herself.     The   story  is  very 
characteristic,  and  I  hope  the  reader  will  find  it  as 
pretty  as  I  do.     How  her  heart  must  have  swelled 
with    despair   at   the  weakness  of  the   others,    yet 
owned  a  throb  of  relief  to  be  saved  the  parting — that 


CHILDHOOD.  23 


parting,  the  bitterness  of  which  can  only  be  under- 
stood when  it  comes  near!  It  was  only  for  a  while, 
however,  that  she  relinquished  her  purpose  of  aiding 
her  parents.  Brussels  on  foot,  and  the  hazards  of 
the  lace-making,  dropped  into  impossibility  to  be 
sure,  as  the  child  sprang,  delicate  yet  strong  and 
ever  courageous,  into  early  womanhood  with  all  its 
developments.  At  sixteen,  the  little  maiden  no 
doubt  had  learned  that  some  things  which  looked 
very  easy  at  twelve  had  become  impracticable ;  but 
the  generous  determination  to  help,  the  high-spirited 
love  of  independence  that  prompted  the  childish 
plan,  was  nowise  diminished  ;  nor  was  her  resolution 
less  fine  because  it  had  to  follow  a  more  hackneyed 
way  of  working.  At  that  early  age  she  undertook  the 
situation  of  a  governess.  Her  father,  if  he  had  not 
accumulated  much  wealth,  had  acquired  many  noble 
friends  and  patrons,  and  was  popular  among  them, 
and  great  names  had  been  familiar  in  the  artist's 
house  as  long  as  the  children  could  recollect.  It 
was  accordingly  in  a  noble  household — that  of  the 
Marquis  of  Winchester — that  his  daughter  began 
her  career.  This  must  have  been  some  time  in  the 
year  1810,  and  she  remained  in  the  same  household 
for  about  four  years.  Thus  '  Independence,'  which 
had  lured  her  with  '  lion  heart  and  eagle  eye,'  was 
at  length  followed  at  sixteen,  though  so  many  years 
later  than  she  had  dreamed  and  desired. 


24  ANNA  JAMESON. 


CHAPTER  II. 

YOUTH. 

OF  the  period  of  Anna  Murphy's  youth  there  are  but 
few  records.  The  unfinished  miniature  painted  by 
her  father,  from  which  the  frontispiece  to  this  volume 
is  taken,  shows  to  what  early  maturity  the  artist's 
eldest  daughter,  the  young  generalissimo,  of  the 
pretty  band  of  sisters,  had  grown.  She  was  sixteen 
when  it  was  painted  ;  the  pride  and  admiration  of 
the  household  ;  just  about  to  set  out  upon  the  career 
of  independence  which  she  had  so  long  desired,  and 
to  carry  into  practice  the  high-flown  theories  which 
had  inspired  her  childhood.  Otherwise  it  would  not 
appear  that  there  had  been  at  that  time  any  urgent 
need,  such  as  existed  at  a  later  date,  for  her  experi- 
ments in  the  art  of  teaching,  which  seem  to  have 
occurred  intermittently,  and  with  many  irregular 
intervals,  through  the  period  of  youth.  Some  kind  of 
absence,  yet  near  vicinity,  seems  to  be  inferred  in  the 
following  pretty  fatherly  note  of  congratulation  on  a 
birthday,  which  I  find  lying  without  date,  addressed 
to  '  Miss  Murphy,'  among  a  number  of  unimportant 
papers  : 


YOUTH.  25 

MY  DEAREST  ANNA, 

We  have  no  distinction  to  offer  you  nor  enter- 
tainment on  your  birthday — but  your  good  mother  and  I 
on  rising  this  morning  congratulated  each  other  on  having 
such  an  affectionate  and  good  and  well-disposed  and  ac- 
complished daughter — receive  our  blessing.  If  you  are  out 
to-day  call  and  see  your  mother. 

Ever  yours, 

D.  B.  M. 

I  am  not  aware,  however,  that  Miss  Murphy  was 
in  any  situation  as  governess,  except  the  early  one 
above  referred  to,  until  that  which  formed  the  actual 
though  unintentional  beginning  of  her  literary  career. 
In  the  winter  of  the  year  1820-21,  an  old 
north-country  friend,  Mr.  John  Harden,  of  Brathy 
Hall,  introduced  to  Mr.  Murphy  and  his  family  a 
young  barrister  named  Robert  Jameson,  who  was  a 
native  of  the  lake  country  and  a  prottgd  and  wor- 
shipper of  the  poet,  who  had  made  that  district 
famous.  He  had  come  to  London  to  enter  seriously 
upon  the  business  of  his  profession,  and  was  in  all 
the  bloom  of  life  and  enthusiasm,  of  agreeable  looks, 
and  manners  said  to  have  been  most  fascinating. 
Anna  was  at  the  time  living  with  her  parents,  and 
that  the  two  young  people  thus  introduced  to  each 
other  should  fall  in  love  was  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world.  But  unfortunately  the  course  of  true 
love  soon  became  anything  but  smooth,  and  a  dawn 


26  ANNA  JAMESON. 

ing  perception  of  those  incongruities  and  differences 
which  afterwards  clouded  the  life  of  both,  seems  to 
have   very   soon   disturbed    and    interrupted    their 
attachment.     The  story  is  too  remote  to  be  entered 
into    in    detail ;   nor,    perhaps,    does   anyone    now 
living  know  exactly  why  it  was  that  the  engagement 
was  broken  off.     But  this  happened  so  soon  after  its 
formation  that  in  June  1821  Anna,  in  weariness  and 
disappointment  and  disgust  with  the  life  which  had 
thus  been  overcast  when  at  the  brightest,  again  left 
home,  and  went  this  time  to  Italy  as  governess  to  a 
beautiful  girl  of  whom  she  speaks  with  the  warmest 
admiration.     The   grand    tour    was    then   still    a 
luxury  possible  only  to  those  who  could  do  it  in  a 
leisurely  and  costly  manner,  loitering  from  capital  to 
capital,  and  taking  full  time  to  reap  the  advantage 
of  all  they  heard  and  saw.     No  doubt  this  interlude 
of  travel  at  so  critical  a  moment  of  her  life  did  much 
to   quicken   the   natural   powers  and  cultivate  the 
special    tastes    of   the  young    Englishwoman    who 
wandered  so  sadly  through  all  the  galleries,  thinking 
that  she  found  in  every  Muste  and  princely  collec- 
tion   only    the    shadow    of    her  own    deep-seated 
sorrow.     There   are   few    things  better  known   or 
more  frequently  witnessed  than  that  absorption  in  a 
disappointment  of  the  heart  which  seems  for   the 
moment  to  fill  life  with  but  one  thought  and  tinge 
everything  with  melancholy.     Sad  as  this  condition 


YOUTH.  27 

of  spirit  is  to  the  sufferer,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  in  reality  it  often  adds  but  a  delicacy  the  more 
to  the  visionary  intellectual  delights  of  an  inex- 
perienced mind  fresh  launched  upon  the  great  and 
varied  and  splendid  world  of  art  and  intellectual 
beauty,  and  it  is  evident  that  this  was  Anna 
Murphy's  case.  She  was  a  member  of  what  seems 
to  have  been  a  somewhat  brilliant  party.  Wealth 
was  indispensable  to  such  an  expedition,  and  the 
journey  was  made  en  prince,  according  to  the  old 
traditions  which  still  haunt  and  mystify  the  path  of 
the  cheaply-travelling  Englishman  of  the  present 
day.  The  mother  of  the  family  was  beautiful,  still 
young,  apparently  fond  of  society,  and  not  intolerant 
of  admiration.  '  I  had  once  thought  of  making  out 
a  list  of  our  killed  and  wounded,'  Anna  writes  to  a 
friend  from  Naples,  after  recounting  the  fate  of  an 
'  interesting,  handsome,  elegant,  sentimental  cox- 
comb at  Rome,  who  fluttered  round  Mrs. till 

he  scorched  his  own  wings  ; '  and  she  remarks,  with 
a  pleased  pride  very  becoming  to  a  pretty  young 
woman  with  so  many  attractions  of  her  own,  upon 
the  '  extreme  beauty  '  of  her  dear  Laura,  her  charm- 
ing almost  grown-up  pupil,  which  attracted  all  eyes 
and  drew  down  storms  of  confetti  as  the  party 
drove  up  and  down  the  gay  Toledo  during  the 
Naples  Carnival.  This  journey,  however,  was  to 
have  a  record  more  important  than  the  desultory 


28  ANNA  JAMESON. 

fragments  of  correspondence  which  may  be  collected 
after  this  long  interval  of  fifty  years. 

Those  were  the  days  when  a  journal  was  a 
necessary  part  of  the  belongings  of  all  cultivated 
and  aspiring  youth,  and  when  numbers  of  people  in 
actual  life  kept  not  only  a  record  of  events  such  as 
so  many  still  do,  but  a  detailed  record  of  their  feel- 
ings and  thinkings,  such  as  is  very  apt  to  strike  the 
reader  nowadays,  when  fashion  has  changed,  as 
too  elaborate  to  be  really  the  private  history  of  the 
mind  which  it  professes  to  be.  So  harsh  a  judg- 
ment, however,  would  be  both  unjust  and  untrue,  as 
so  many  hasty  judgments  are.  We  are  all  familiar 
with  those  perfectly  genuine  journals  of  religious 
experience  which  hold  so  high  a  place  among  the 
materials  of  biography ;  but  even  these  sprang  from 
no  more  real  impulse  than  the  journal  of  description 
and  sentiment,  which  suited  the  habit  of  the  time, 
and  in  which  the  young  traveller  recorded  all  her 
impressions,  and  consoled  herself  in  the  melancholy 
which  pursued  her  wherever  she  went.  However 
bright  and  genial  her  surroundings,  she  was  yet 
more  or  less  a  stranger  in  the  gay  party,  which  pro- 
bably possessed  no  clue  to  the  secret  trouble  that 
clouded  her  spirits ;  and  in  the  hours  of  loneliness 
which  were  inevitable  in  her  position,  her  diary  was 
the  constant  refuge  of  her  leisure.  Therein  she  put 
down  all  that  she  saw,  and  much  that  she  thought 


YOUTH.  29 

concerning  what  she  saw ;  her  opinions,  often  her 
intuitive  criticisms ;  scraps  of  her  reading ;  sketches 
of  character,  half  playful  half  serious  ;  and  sketches 
also  of  the  beautiful  landscapes  which  drew  her  out 
of  herself.  In  after  life  the  little  locked  volumes 
which  contained  this  mental  record  were  always  at 
hand  upon  her  table,  and  were  kept  up  regularly  to 
the  end  of  her  life,  though  jealously  preserved  from 
all  eyes  and  destroyed  at  her  death  according  to  her 
own  orders.  In  the  records  of  mature  life  no  doubt 
there  must  always  be  many  things  which  are  too 
sacred  for  the  general  eye ;  but  this  is  rarely  the 
case  in  the  first  half  of  existence.  The  secret  of 
youth  is  an  open  secret ;  its  sinkings  of  heart,  its 
despairings,  the  hopeless  melancholy  in  which  it 
revels,  are  so  often  but  morning  mists,  shadows  to 
flee  away  one  time  or  other,  and  melt  into  the  light 
of  common  day. 

Anna's  life  was  in  this  stage.  She  was  parted 
from  her  lover  and  from  all  happy  prospects.  Evi- 
dently in  her  heart  she  was  faithful  to  his  image, 
and  felt  the  separation  from  him  deeply ;  and  as  she 
travelled  she  carried  her  own  atmosphere  with  her, 
making  to  herself  the  most  of  her  own  despair,  as  is 
so  natural,  and  believing  that  a  veil  of  darkness  en- 
veloped her  for  ever.  This  is  no  unusual  sentiment 
among  sufferers  from  such  causes,  and  many  young 
women  have  mused  and  wept  as  she  did ;  not  many 


3o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

young  women,  however,  have  been  able  to  make  their 
sorrows  so  interesting.  It  has  seemed  necessary  to 
make  such  an  explanation  in  order  to  show  naturally 
how  the  pages,  which  afterwards  made  so  attractive 
a  book,  could  have  been  written  with  no  idea  of  pub- 
lication. The  reader  will  see  presently  by  what  a  mere 
accident  it  was  that  they  got  into  print  at  all ;  but  in 
the  meantime  they  afford  us  an  animated  account  of 
where  the  party  of  travellers  went,  and  what  they 
saw,  in  addition  to  the  record  of  the  writer's  own 
private  feelings.  The  state  of  melancholy,  how- 
ever, of  which  it  was,  in  the  more  personal  portions, 
at  once  the  evidence  and  the  relief,  is  apparent  from 
the  very  opening : 

When  to-day,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  (she  writes), 
I  saw  the  shores  of  England  fade  away  in  the  distance, 
did  the  conviction  that  I  should  never  behold  them  more 
bring  with  it  one  additional  pang  of  regret,  or  one  con- 
soling thought?  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  I  leave 
behind  me  the  scenes,  the  objects  so  long  associated  with 
pain  ;  but  from  the  pain  itself  I  cannot  fly.  It  has  become 
a  part  of  myself.  I  know  not  yet  whether  I  ought  to 
rejoice  and  be  thankful  for  this  opportunity  of  travelling 
while  my  mind  is  thus  torn  and  upset,  or  rather  regret  that  I 
must  visit  scenes  of  interest,  of  splendour,  of  novelty—  scenes 
over  which,  years  ago,  I  used  .  to  ponder  with  many  a  sigh 
and  many  a  vain  longing — now  that  I  am  lost  to  all  the 
pleasure  they  could  once  have  excited  ;  for  what  is  all  the 
world  to  me  now  ?  But  I  will  not  weakly  yield  ;  though 
time  and  I  have  not  been  long  acquainted,  do  I  not  know 


YOUTH.  31 

what  miracles  he,  '  the  all-powerful  healer,'  can  perform  ? 
Who  knows  but  this  dark  cloud  may  pass  away  ?  Con- 
tinual motion,  continual  activity,  continual  novelty,  the 
absolute  necessity  for  self-command,  may  do  something 
for  me. 

Then  follow  some  verses,  of  which  we  will  not 
pretend  to  say  that  the  poetical  power  is  great ;  but 
they,  too,  indicate  a  crisis  past : 

It  is  o'er :  with  its  pains  and  its  pleasures 

The  dream  of  affection  is  o'er  ; 
The  feelings  I  lavished  so  fondly 

Will  never  return  to  me  more. 

With  a  faith,  oh  too  blindly  believing, 
A  truth  no  unkindness  could  move, 

My  prodigal  heart  has  expended 
At  once  an  existence  of  love. 

And  now,  like  the  spendthrift  forsaken 
By  those  whom  his  bounty  has  blest, 

All  empty  and  cold  and  despairing, 
It  shrinks  in  my  desolate  breast. 

This  was  the  sad  mood  in  which  the  journey  was 
begun.  Possibly  the  sorrowful  sentiment  might  be 
afterwards  heightened  here  and  there,  to  increase  the 
vraisemb lance  of  the  pathetic  suggestion  which  runs 
through  the  diary  that  the  writer  is  a  heart-broken 
invalid,  gradually  failing  in  strength,  whose  death  is 
the  natural  end  of  the  piece ;  but  still  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  in  the  main  t\\epose  is  real,  and  faith- 


32  ANNA  JAMESON. 

fully  represents  the  state  of  mind  in  which  the 
young  traveller  set  out.  The  cloud,  however,  lifted 
from  time  to  time.  A  few  days  after  their  arrival 
in  Paris,  she  marvels  'at  my  own  versatility,  when 
I  think  how  soon  my  quick  spirits  were  excited  by 
this  gay,  gaudy,  noisy  place.'  In  this  way  the  story 
goes  on  throughout ;  whenever  she  is  brought  face 
to  face  with  a  beautiful  landscape,  a  fine  picture,  a 
noble  building,  these  '  quick  spirits '  carry  all  before 
them,  and  the  lively  intelligent  observation,  graceful 
remark,  and  often — inexperienced  as  she  was — just 
criticism,  betraying  already  the  budding  of  the  future 
art  critic,  prove  with  what  freshness,  notwithstand- 
ing her  melancholy,  she  could  see  and  judge.  But 
no  sooner  has  the  little  involuntary  outburst  been 
made  than  the  sentimental  sufferer  reminds  herself 
of  her  undying  grief,  and  all  is  overcast  again.  We 
do  not  apologise  for  quoting  from  this  early  produc- 
tion ;  it  has  fallen  out  of  the  knowledge  of  the  new 
generation  of  readers,  and  may  have  got  half  oblite- 
rated from  the  memories  of  the  old,  and  it  is  a  pic- 
ture of  things  to  a  great  extent  passed  away.  The 
Paris  of  the  restored  Bourbons,  the  Italy  of  Austrian 
domination — how  far  have  both  gone  from  us !  the 
latter  almost  as  far,  we  might  suppose,  as  the 
former,  so  complete  is  the  change.  Here  is  a  little 
bit  of  Parisian  gossip  of  the  period,  at  once  amusing 
and  characteristic  : 


YOUTH.  33 

The  rage  for  cashmeres  and  little  dogs  has  lately  given 
way  to  a  rage  for  '  Le  Solitaire,'  a  romance  written,  I 
believe,  by  a  certain  Vicomte  d'Arlincourt.  Le  Solitaire 
rules  the  imagination,  the  taste,  the  dress  of  half  Paris.  If 
you  go  to  the  theatre,  it  is  to  see  the  Solitaire,  either  as 
tragedy,  opera,  or  melodrama  ;  the  men  dress  their  hair 
and  throw  their  cloaks  about  them  a  la  Solitaire  ;  bonnets 
and  caps,  flowers  and  ribbons,  are  all  a  la  Solitaire.  The 
print-shops  are  full  of  scenes  from  the  Solitaire ;  it  is  on 
every  toilette,  every  work-table*;  ladies  carry  it  about  in 
their  reticules  to  show  each  other  that  they  are  d  la  mode. 

.  .  . '  Vous  riavez pas  lu  le  Solitaire?'  said  Madame  M , 

yesterday.     '  Eh,   mon  Dieu  !  il  est  done  possible  ?  vous ! 
mats,  ma   chere,  vous   £tcs  perdue  de  reputation — et  pour 
jamaisf 

When  the  party  leave  Paris,  the  writer  goes  on 
with  ever-increasing  delight  in  all  she  sees  and 
learns,  feeling  that  she  has  in  a  few  hours  stored  her 
mind  with  images  of  beauty  and  grandeur  which 
will  last  through  her  whole  existence ;  and  perhaps, 
too,  feeling  a  little  contemptuous  of  the  'others' 
who,  amid  all  this  bewildering  beauty  and  novelty, 
can  be  affected  by  the  petty  'contretemps  and  pri- 
vations '  of  the  journey.  '  To  me  they  are  nothing,' 
she  cries ;  '  now  I  feel  the  value  of  my  own  enthu 
siasm,  now  am  I  repaid  in  part  for  many  pains  and 
sorrows  and  errors  it  has  cost  me.  Though  the 
natural  sentiment  of  that  enthusiasm  be  now  re- 
pressed and  restrained,  and  my  spirits  subdued  by 
long  illness,  what  but  enthusiasm  could  elevate  my 


34  ANNA  JAMESON. 

mind  to  a  level  with  the  sublime  objects  round  me  ? ' 
A  girl  of  the  present  day,  in  the  same  circumstances, 
would  probably  think  it  right  to  disguise  her  en- 
thusiasm, and  fill  her  pages  with  a  comical  account 
of  the  'contretemps  and  privations/  the  missing 
baths  and  imperfect  arrangements :  so  fashions 
change. 

The  reader  of  the  present  day  will  naturally  be 
less  interested  in  the  description  of  scenes  which 
have  been  over  and  over  again  described,  and  which 
so  much  larger  a  public  than  that  of  1821  has  gazed 
on  for  itself,  than  with  the  personal  glimpses  of  the 
writer,  lonely  though  in  the  midst  of  a  gay  party, 
and  sad  though  often  transported  out  of  herself  with 
excitement  and  visionary  delight.  The  little  pri- 
vate expeditions  she  makes  in  the  mornings  and 
evenings,  before  the  others  are  astir,  or  when  they 
are  resting  from  the  gay  fatigues  of  the  promenade, 
afford  some  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  the 
record.  One  time  she  started  out — half-pleased  by 
her  freedom,  half-forlorn  in  her  loneliness — to  the 
nearest  church ;  and,  after  a  little  inspection  of  the 
pictures,  noted  one — 'a  virgin  said  to  be  possessed 
of  miraculous  powers ' — which  had  been  '  decorated 
with  a  real  blue  silk  gown  spangled  with  tinsel 
stars,'  and  which  naturally  excited  the  amused 
horror  of  the  English  spectator,  when  the  following 
pretty  incident  occurred  : 


YOUTH.  35 

As  I  was  sitting  upon  a  marble  step,  philosophising 
to  myself  and  wondering  at  what  seemed  to  me  such 
anomalous  bad  taste,  such  pitiable  and  ridiculous  super- 
stition, there  came  up  a  poor  woman,  leading  by  the  hand 
a  pale  and  delicate  boy,  about  four  years  old.  She  pro- 
strated herself  before  the  picture,  while  the  child  knelt 
beside  her,  and  prayed  for  some  time  with  fervour  ;  she 
then  lifted  him  up,  and  the  mother  and  child  kissed  the 
picture  alternately  with  great  devotion.  Then  making  him 
kneel  down  and  clasp  his  little  hands,  she  began  to  teach 
him  an  Ave  Maria,  repeating  it  word  by  word,  slowly  and 
distinctly,  so  that  I  got  it  by  heart  too.  Having  finished 
their  devotions,  the  mother  put  into  the  child's  hand  a 
piece  of  money,  which  she  directed  him  to  drop  into  a 
box  inscribed  ^per  i  povcri  vcrgognosi ' — for  the  bashful 
poor ;  they  then  went  their  way.  I  was  an  unperceived 
witness  of  this  little  scene,  which  strongly  affected  me. 
The  simple  piety  of  this  woman,  though  mistaken  in  its 
object,  appeared  to  me  respectable,  and  the  Virgin,  in  her 
sky-blue  brocade  and  gilt  tiara,  no  longer  an  object  to 
ridicule.  I  returned  home  rejoicing  in  kinder,  gentler, 
happier  thoughts. 

Another  evening  she  strolled  alone  into  Santa 
Croce,  among  all  the  relics  of  the  mighty  dead  ;  and 
here  '  spent  about  an  hour  walking  up  and  down, 
abandoned  to  thoughts  which  were  melancholy  but 
not  bitter.  All  memory,  all  feeling,  all  grief,  all 
pain  were  swallowed  up  in  the  sublime  tranquillity 
which  was  within  and  around  me.'  Again  we  find 
her,  newly  arrived  in  Rome — having  reached  it  in 
the  rain  and  dark  of  the  previous  evening — hurrying 

D   2 


36  ANNA  JAMESON. 

out  '  before  anyone  was  ready  for  breakfast,'  and 
running  up  '  the  gigantic  flight  of  marble  stairs  '  lead- 
ing to  the  top  of  a  hill.  '  I  was  at  the  summit  in  a 
moment ! '  she  cries,  '  and  there  lay  Rome  before 
me — innumerable  domes  and  towers,  and  vanes  and 
pinnacles  brightened  by  the  rising  sun.  I  gazed 
and  gazed  as  if  I  would  drink  it  all  in  at  my  eyes.' 
But,  alas !  coming  slowly  down  from  that  mount  of 
vision,  she  '  found  letters  from  England  on  the  break- 
fast table  '  which  plunged  her  into  troubles  as  unshared 
as  were  her  delights.  Though  there  is  not  one 
word  said  throughout  the  diary  from  beginning  to 
end  which  indicates  neglect  or  unkindness,  nothing 
could  be  more  suggestive  of  the  solitude  of  a  young 
woman  of  genius  in  such  a  position,  than  these  de- 
scriptions of  the  little  lonely  escapades  and  unaccom- 
panied wanderings  here  and  there,  which  were 
evidently  the  most  memorable  features  in  her  life. 
The  sentences  in  which  she  describes  herself  as 
seated  behind  backs  and  wrapped  in  '  impracticable 
silence/  are  possibly  to  be  numbered  among  the 
touches  of  fiction  added  afterwards  to  maintain  the 
character ;  but  there  is  more  evident  fact  in  the 
amused  tribulation  with  which  she  records  how  one 
of  her  travelling  companions,  evidently  the  butt  of 
the  party,  a  foolish  good-natured  young  Englishman, 
1  attached  himself  to  my  side  the  whole  morning,  to 
benefit,  as  he  said,  by  my  "  tasty  remarks !"  These 


YOUTH.  37 

'  tasty  remarks,'  at  this  early  period  of  her  art  educa- 
tion, were  not  always  trustworthy  guides.  As  was 
perhaps  natural,  she  disliked  Michel  Angelo,  and 
expressed  her  dislike  with  vehemence :  'If  all  the 
connoisseurs  in  the  world,  with  Vasari  at  their  head, 
were  to  harangue  for  an  hour  together  on  the  merits 
of  this  picture '  (the  Holy  Family  in  the  Tribune),  '  I 
might  submit  in  silence,  for  I  am  no  connoisseur ; 
but  that  it  is  a  disagreeable,  a  hateful  picture,  is  an 
opinion  that  fire  would  not  melt  out  of  me ! '  she 
cries  with  delightful  daring.  'But  I  speak  in  igno- 
rance,' adds  the  inexperienced  critic,  a  little  over- 
awed at  her  own  audacity.  To  which  acknowledg- 
ment, a  dozen  years  later,  she  adds  in  a  note,  '  This 
was  indeed  ignorance  ! ' 

The  journey  home  is  much  more  briefly  re- 
corded, and  probably  altered  more  from  its  original 
shape  in  the  young  lady's  diary,  than  the  beginning. 
The  fictitious  termination,  so  loudly  complained  of 
when  in  later  years  the  authorship  was  acknow- 
ledged, involved  various  alterations,  obliterations, 
and  additions. 

The  expedition  thus  recorded  lasted  altogether  for 
about  a  year,  and  then  Anna  parted  from  her  travel- 
ling companions,  and  changed  her  surroundings 
altogether.  Shortly  after  she  became  governess  to 
the  children  of  Mr.  Littleton,  one  of  the  members 
for  Staffordshire,  afterwards  Lord  Hatherton,  and 


38  ANNA  JAMESON. 

remained  in  that  family  for  four  years.  She  was  happy 
in  her  new  position,  and  became  deeply  attached  to 
her  pupils  and  to  their  parents,  for  whom  throughout 
the  remainder  of  her  life  she  retained  the  warmest 
friendship.  During  this  interval,  however,  the  sky 
began  to  clear,  and  the  melancholy  certainty  that 
all  happy  dreams  were  fled  changed  into  such  a 
renewal  of  confidence  and  affection  that,  in  the  year 
1825,  the  broken  engagement  having  been  renewed 
some  time  before,  Anna  Murphy  married,  and  became 
Mrs.  Jameson,  the  name  by  which  alone  she  is  known 
to  the  general  reader. 

Up  to  this  time,  with  the  exception  of  the  '  Diary/ 
then  reposing  peacefully  in  its  little  locked  volumes, 
she  had  written  nothing  except  '  Faizy,'  a  story  for 
children  entitled  '  Little  Louisa,'  a  child's  vocabulary 
of  useful  words,  and  the  comedietta  of  '  Much  Coin, 
much  Care,'  a  proverb  dramatised  for  her  young 
pupils  the  Littleton  children,  afterwards  published 
with  other  fragments  in  her  volumes  of  '  Visits  and 
Sketches  at  Home  and  Abroad.' 

Mrs.  Jameson's  marriage,  which,  as  it  turned 
out,  brought  her  little  but  misfortune,  seems,  so 
far  as  external  circumstances  went,  to  have  taken 
place  with  every  promise  of  mutual  well-being. 
The.  new  husband  and  wife  were  of  kindred  tastes 
and  accomplishments,  fond  of  literature  and  of 
cultivated  society,  and,  though  not  rich,  of  suffi- 


YOUTH.  39 

ciently  good  prospects  to  justify  their  union  in  a 
time  not  quite  so  exacting  in  this  respect  as  the 
present.  They  began  their  life,  as  a  couple  of  equal 
pretensions  would  scarcely  like  to  do  now-a-days, 
in  a  lodging  in  the  unromantic  neighbourhood  of 
Chenies  Street,  Tottenham  Court  Road.  It  was 
during  the  early  confidence  and  harmony  of  this 
beginning  that  the  little  book  which  had  been 
Anna's  confidant  and  consoler  during  the  first  pangs 
of  a  separation  which  seemed  likely  to  last  for  ever, 
was  first  revealed  to  any  eye  but  her  own.  She 
began  by  reading  fragments  to  .her  husband  for  his 
amusement,  and  also  perhaps  as  a  revelation  of  the 
tenor  of  her  thoughts  at  that  period  upon  which  both 
could  look  back  as  a  trouble  past.  The  contrast 
must  have  been  piquant.  And  the  manner  in  which 
this  youthful  composition  got  into  print  furnishes  an 
amusing  incident  in  Mrs.  Jameson's  early  history. 

Among  the  many  friends  whom  the  young  couple, 
both  full  of  talent  and  accomplishments,  collected 
around  them,  was  one  of  a  very  unusual  character, 
with  whom  Mr.  Jameson  had  made  acquaintance 
in  some  rambling  excursion,  or  over  some  collection 
of  old  books  or  engravings— for  which  he  had  a 
connoisseur's  affection — an  acquaintance  that  grew 
gradually  into  something  like  intimacy.  This  was 
a  man  of  the  name  of  Thomas,  who  had  started  in 
life  in  no  higher  position  than  that  of  a  cobbler,  but 


40  ANNA  JAMESON. 

whom  a  love  of  books  and  study  had  brought  into 
contact  with  people  of  superior  intelligence,  and  who 
had  worked  himself  gradually  by  means  of  this  into 
a  curiously  nondescript  position,  half  bookseller,  half 
craftsman,  with  strong  inclinations  towards  the  study 
of  law.  The  primitive  way  in  which  he  is  said  to 
have  begun  life  is  of  itself  interesting ;  for  his  passion 
for  books  becoming  soon  well  known  among  the 
humbler  classes  to  which  he  belonged,  many  who 
found  themselves  possessors  of  an  old  book  or  two 
brought  them  to  the  bookworm,  willing  to  take  a 
small  price  for  volumes  that  sometimes  proved  of 
considerable  value.  Thomas's  custom  was  to  buy 
all  that  was  brought  to  him  for  his  private  reading, 
and,  having  devoured  their  contents,  to  sell  them 
over  again  and  buy  new  ones,  thus  adding  continually 
to  his  own  mental  and  practical  resources  at  one  and 
the  same  time.  He  sold  these  volumes  of  course 
at  a  profit,  having  doubtless  a  more  correct  know- 
ledge of  the  value  and  character  of  such  books  than 
the  humble  vendors  ;  and  after  a  time  he  opened 
a  secondhand  bookshop  on  his  own  account,  and 
began  to  rise  in  the  world,  and  even  to  publish  in 
a  small  way.  But  his  soaring  ambition  aimed,  as 
has  been  said,  at  nothing  less  than  the  honours  of 
the  law,  and  his  studies  soon  took  this  direction  ex- 
clusively. Mr.  Jameson  was  sufficiently  interested 
in  Thomas  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  his  counsel 


YOUTH.  41 

and  help  in  this  ambitious  desire,  and  also  brought 
him  to  his  house,  and  introduced  him  to  his  wife. 
Among  other  self-acquired  accomplishments,  Mr. 
Thomas  had  mastered  the  guitar,  and  obtained  some 
skill  upon  this  instrument.  Herself  an  ardent  lover 
of  music,  Mrs.  Jameson  gladly  availed  herself  of  the 
instruction  volunteered  by  their  eccentric  acquaint- 
ance. One  evening,  while  he  was  with  them,  it  so 
happened  that  the  visit  to  the  Continent  and  her 
'  Diary '  was  spoken  of,  and  at  her  husband's  desire 
Mrs.  Jameson  brought  forth  the  green- covered 
volumes,  and  read  aloud  certain  portions  of  her 
foreign  experiences,  criticisms,  &c.  Thomas  at  once 
asked  whether  he  might  not  have  the  MS.  for  pub- 
lication, and  expressed  himself  willing  to  take  all 
the  pecuniary  risk  involved  in  printing  and  bringing 
it  out.  The  idea  was  new  and  amusing  to  the 
inexperienced  pair.  '  You  may  print  it  if  you  like,' 
said  Mrs.  Jameson,  adding,  half  in  jest,  '  if  it  sells 
for  anything  more  than  will  pay  the  expenses,  you 
shall  give  me  a  Spanish  guitar  for  my  share  of  the 
profits.' 

Thomas  accepted  the  conditions  so  lightly  offered, 
and  the  MS.,  partially  revised  and  considerably 
curtailed  in  parts,  as  we  have  above  stated,  was  con- 
signed into  his  hands.  It  was  agreed  that  the  book 
should  be  published  anonymously,  and,  the  better  to 
maintain  the  desired  secrecy  as  to  its  authorship, 


42  ANNA  JAMESON. 

a  final  paragraph  was  added,  which  was  fiction,  pur 
et  simple.  Herein  it  was  stated  that  '  the  writer  died 
on  her  way  home  at  Autun,  in  her  twenty-sixth  year, 
and  had  been  buried  in  the  garden  of  the  Capuchin 
Monastery  near  that  city.' 

The  work  was  advertised  by  Thomas  under  the 
title  of  '  A  Lady's  Diary,'  and,  most  probably  after 
its  success  had  become  apparent  to  experienced  eyes, 
Mr.  Colburn,  the  publisher,  made  our  enterprising 
friend  an  offer  of  fifty  pounds  for  the  copyright, 
which  was  accepted,  and  a  ten  guinea  guitar  pur- 
chased by  Thomas  and  handed  over  to  the  author. 
A  certain  number  of  copies  must  have  been  printed 
off  by  him  under  the  original  title,  one  of  which 
would  appear  to  have  been  presented  to  a  most 
valued  friend,  Mrs.  Basil  Montagu,  as  I  have  seen 
a  copy  bearing  the  name  of  this  lady  on  the  fly-leaf 
(title-page  there  is  none),  '  Anne  D.  B.  Montagu  ; ' 
and  a  few  lines  below,  also  in  Mrs.  Montagu's  hand- 
writing, stating  that  '  this  book  was  published  under 
the  altered  title  of  "  The  Diary  of  an  Ennuye"e  ;  "  it 
is  written  by  Mrs.  Robert  Jameson! 

The  book,  however,  was  known  to  the  public 
only  by  the  second  title,  one  probably  deemed  fitter 
for  the  '  ears  polite '  of  British  readers  than  the 
English  synonym  proposed  by  the  writer  herself  in 
the  first  page,  where  she  exclaims,  '  Here  beginneth 
the  Diary  of  a  Blue  Devil.' 


YOUTH.  43 

The  success  of  the  volume  was  prompt  and  grati- 
fying, and  though  the  public  in  general  is  said  to 
have  been  flatteringly  disgusted  by  the  discovery 
that  it  had  been  cheated,  as  it  were,  out  of  its  sym- 
pathy, and  that  the  author  had  not  pined  and  died, 
and  was  buried  in  no  convent  garden,  she  had  no 
reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  her  first  serious  ex- 
periment in  literature.  Though  the  guitar,  which 
was  her  only  remuneration,  was  no  great  recompense, 
yet  the  door  had  been  opened  to  her  into  the  favour 
of  the  public,  and  an  important  step  thus  made. 
Her  next  productions  were  announced  as  by  '  Mrs. 
Jameson,  author  of  the  "  Diary  of  an  Ennuyee." ' 

These  were  the  '  Loves  of  the  Poets,'  and  the 
'  Celebrated  Female  Sovereigns ' — two  works,  I  have 
reason  to  believe,  long  since  out  of  print,  at  least 
in  this  country,  and  to  which,  as  essays  of  minor  im- 
portance among  her  more  characteristic  works,  it  is 
scarcely  needful  to  refer. 

I  may  add  here  a  contemporary  personal  sketch 
of  Mrs.  Jameson,  dated  just  after  the  commencement 
of  her  literary  life,  which  may  prove  interesting  at 
this  point  of  her  career.  Shortly  after  her  marriage, 
she  had  become  intimately  acquainted  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Basil  Montagu,  and  with  that  gifted  lady's 
daughter  and  her  husband,  Bryan  Waller  Procter, 
best  known,  perhaps,  as  Barry  Cornwall,  the  poet- 
lawyer,  In  this  distinguished  circle  she  met  many 


44  ANNA  JAMESON. 

well-known  and  notable  people,  with  some  of  whom 
she  formed  lifelong  friendships ;  and  from  one  of  these, 
Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble,  we  have  the  following  account 
of  her  first  meeting,  in  1828,  with  Mrs.  Jameson,  at 
the  Montagus'  house  in  Bedford  Square  : — '  While 
under  the  immediate  spell  of  her  fascinating  book, 
it  was  of  course  very  delightful  to  me  to  make 
Mrs.  Jameson's  acquaintance,  which  I  did  at  the 
house  of  our  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Basil  Montagu.' 
'  At  an  evening  party  there  I  first  saw  Mrs.  Jameson. 
The  Ennuyde,  one  is  given  to  understand,  dies,  and 
it  was  a  little  vexatious  to  behold  her  sitting  on  a 
sofa  in  a  very  becoming  state  of  blooming  plumpi- 
tude ;  but  it  was  some  compensation  to  be  introduced 
to  her.  And  so  began  a  close  and  friendly  intimacy, 
which  lasted  for  many  years,  between  myself  and  this 
very  accomplished  woman. ' 1  Mrs.  Kemble  after- 
wards adds  the  following  more  elaborate  description 
of  Mrs.  Jameson's  personal  appearance  and  bearing. 
Anyone  who  has  seen  the  portrait  painted  a  few 
years  later  of  her  by  Mrs.  Opie's  son-in-law,  H.  P. 
Briggs,  R.A.,  will  recognise  the  truth  of  this  pen- 
and-ink  picture. 

When  first  I  met  Mrs.  Jameson  she  was  an  attractive- 
looking  young  woman,  with  a  skin  of  that  dazzling  white- 
ness which  generally  accompanies  reddish  hair,  such  as  hers 

1  In   Leigh    Hunt's  'Bluestockings'   he    writes:    -See    Jameson 
accomplished.' 


YOUTH.  45 

was  ;  her  face,  which  was  habitually  refined  and  spiritnelle 
in  its  expression,  was  capable  of  a  marvellous  power  of 
concentrated  feeling,  such  as  is  seldom  seen  on  any  woman's 
face,  and  is  peculiarly  rare  on  the  countenance  of  a  fair, 
small,  delicately-featured  woman,  all  whose  characteristics 
were  essentially  feminine.  Her  figure  was  extremely 
pretty  ;  her  hands  and  arms  might  have  been  those  of 
Madame  de  Warens. 


46  ANNA  JAMESON. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AFTER    MARRIAGE. 

MR.  JAMESON'S  success  in  his  profession,  at  least  in 
England,  does  not  seem  to  have  fulfilled  the  ex- 
pectations with  which  he  and  his  wife  made  even  so 
modest  a  beginning  in  life  as  this  start  in  Chenies 
Street  ;  after  four  years  spent  together,  he  seems 
to  have  sought  in  a  colonial  appointment  the  success 
which,  at  the  bar,  it  is  often  so  difficult  to  secure 
at  home.  In  1829  he  was  appointed  puisne  judge 
in  the  Island  of  Dominica.  It  does  not  seem,  how- 
ever, that  there  was  any  idea  of  his  wife  accompany- 
ing him  in  what  was,  at  the  best,  a  venture  as  to 
climate,  comfort,  and  permanency.  He  went  alone, 
and  she,  thus  left  to  temporary  solitude,  returned  to 
the  shelter  of  her  father's  house,  and  to  the  consola- 
tion of  that  warm  and  strong  family  love  which  was 
always  her  stronghold  and  protection.  It  would  be 
vain  to  affect  to  doubt  that  the  incompatibilities  of 
temper  and  disposition,  which  at  a  later  period 
separated  them  finally,  had  already  appeared,1  and 

A  little  anecdote  of  their  early  married  life  has  been  told  me 
since  this  work  was  begun,  which,  as  I  do  not  think  it  can  wound  any 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  47 

made  the  seeming  calamity  of  this  break-up  of  their 
domestic  life  less  a  trial  than  a  relief ;  but  happily 
it  is  unnecessary  as  yet  to  touch  upon  this  painful 
question.  They  parted  to  all  appearance  in  perfect 
amity,  and  with  a  natural  cause  for  the  severance, 
which  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  either  had  then 
decided  upon  making  final.  He  went  to  his  appoint- 
ment in  considerable  uncertainty,  as  is  evident  by  his 
letters,  as  to  what  his  circumstances  and  duties  were 

one  now  living,  and  as  it  throws  more  light  on  Mrs.  Jameson's  diffi- 
culties as  a  wife  than  any  vague  statements  can  do,  I  am  tempted  to 
repeat,  as  it  was  told  to  me  by  an  old  and  intimate  friend.  The  pair 
were  married  in  the  middle  of  a  week — Wednesday,  my  informant 
believes — and  settled  at  once  in  their  lodgings  above  referred  to.  On 
the  Sunday  Mr.  Jameson  announced  his  intention  of  going  out  to  the 
house  of  some  friends  with  whom  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  spend- 
ing Sunday  before  his  marriage.  The  young  wife  was  struck  dumb 
by  the  proposal.  '  But,'  she  said,  '  they  do  not  know  me  ;  they  may 
not  want  to  know  me.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  wait  until  they  have 
time  at  least  to  show  whether  they  care  for  my  acquaintance  ? '  '  That 
is  as  you  please,'  said  the  husband,  '  but  in  any  case,  whether  you 
come  or  not,  I  shall  go.'  The  bride  of  three  or  four  days  had  to 
make  up  her  mind.  How  could  she  intrude  herself  upon  strangers  ? 
but  supposing,  on  the  other  hand,  that  any  friend  of  her  own  should 
come,  any  member  of  her  family,  to  congratulate  her  on  her  happiness, 
how  could  her  pride  bear  to  be  found  there  alone  and  forsaken  on  the 
first  Sunday  of  her  married  life  ?  Accordingly,  with  an  effort  she 
prepared  herself  and  set  out  with  him  in  her  white  gown,  forlorn 
enough,  who  can  doubt  ?  They  had  not  gone  far  when  it  began  to 
rain,  and,  taking  advantage  of  this  same  white  gown  as  a  pretext  for 
escaping  from  so  embarrassing  a  visit,  she  declared  it  impossible  to 
go  further.  '  Very  well,'  once  more  said  the  bridegroom  ;  '  you  have 
an  umbrella.  Go  back  by  all  means  ;  but  I  shall  go  on.'  And  so  he 
^id  ;  and  though  received,  as  his  astonished  hosts  afterwards  related, 
i  li  exclamations  of  bewilderment  and  consternation,  calmly  ate  his 
dinner  with  them,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  until  his  usual 
hour  with  perfect  equanimity  and  unconcern.  No  fancy  sketch  of  the 
feelings  of  the  young  wife  returning  to  her  lodgings  alone  need  be 
added  to  this  wonderful  but  perfectly  true  tale. 


48  ANNA  JAMESON. 

to  be ;  and  she  remained  in  England  until  his  pro- 
spects should  be  so  far  ascertained  as  to  make  the 
re-establishment  of  their  home  practicable.  If  her 
life  was  not  that  of  a  happy  wife,  it  was  at  least  a 
composed  and  not  unhappy  woman,  with  many  friends 
and  resources,  whom  her  husband  left  behind  him, 
thinking  no  more  of  everlasting  melancholy  and  the 
sentimental  despair  of  youth,  and  settling  down 
without  complaint  to  make  the  best  that  could  be 
made  of  a  life  still  holding  many  elements  of  happi- 
ness. 

Shortly  after  her  husband's  departure  Mrs.  Jame- 
son went  to  the  Continent  with  her  father  and  his 
friend  and  patron,  Sir  Gerard  Noel.  She  gives  a 
description  of  the  calmed  and  tranquillised  state  of 
her  mind  during  this  journey  in  a  dialogue  published 
in  the  volumes  entitled  '  Visits  and  Sketches  at 
Home  and  Abroad/ 

I  thought,  not  without  gratitude  (she  says),  of  the 
contrast  between  present  feelings  and  those  of  a  former 
journey.  To  abandon  oneself  to  the  quickening  influence 
of  new  objects,  without  care  or  thought  of  to-morrow  ; 
with  a  mind  awake  in  all  its  strength  ;  with  natural  health 
and  cheerfulness  ;  with  sensibility  tamed  not  dead ;  pos- 
sessing one's  soul  in  quiet ;  not  seeking  nor  shrinking  from 
excitement ;  not  self-engrossed  nor  yet  pining  for  sym- 
pathy :  was  not  this  much  ? 

'Not  so  interesting,  perhaps/  she  continues — 
doubtless  with  half  a  smile  at  her  former  self — '  as 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  49 


playing  the  Ennuyde!  This  time  the  party  consisted 
of  two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen — two  fathers  and 
two  daughters,  one  of  the  latter  being  a  naive  and 
attractive  girl.  '  We  travelled  a  la  Milor  Anglais', 
Mrs.  Jameson  adds — 'a  partie  carrde;  a  barouche 
hung  on  the  most  approved  principles,  double- 
cushioned,  luxurious,  rising  and  sinking  on  its  springs 
like  a  swan  on  the  wave ;  the  pockets  stuffed  with 
new  publications,  maps,  and  guides  ad  infinitum ; 
English  servants  for  comfort,  foreign  servants  for 
use ;  a  chessboard  ;  backgammon-tables  ;  in  short, 
surrounded  with  all  that  could  render  us  entirely 
independent  of  the  amusements  we  had  come  to 
seek,  and  of  the  people  we  had  come  to  visit.'  We 
may  quote  from  the  same  record  an  amusing  sketch 
of  the  leader  of  the  party  : 

Our  Chef  de  Voyage — for  so  we  chose  to  entitle  him 
who  was  the  planner  and  director  of  the  excursion-  was 
one  of  the  most  accomplished  and  most  eccentric  of.human 
beings :  even  courtesy  might  have  termed  him  old  at  seventy ; 
but  old  age  and  he  were  many  miles  asunder,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  he  had  made  some  compact  with  Time,  like  that 
of  Faust  with  the  Devil,  and  was  not  to  surrender  to  his 
inevitable  adversary  till  the  last  moment.  Years  could 
not  quench  his  vivacity,  nor  'stale  his  infinite  variety.' 
He  had  been  one  of  the  Prince's  wild  companions  in  the 
days  of  Sheridan  and  Fox,  and  could  play  alternately 
blackguard  and  gentleman,  each  in  perfection  ;  but  the 
high-born  gentleman  ever  prevailed.  He  had  been  heir  to 
an  enormous  income,  most  of  which  had  slipped  through 

E 


5o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

his  fingers  unknownst,  as  the  Irish  say,  and  had  stood  in 
the  way  of  a  coronet,  which  somehow  or  other  had  passed 
over  his  head  to  light  on  that  of  his  eldest  son.  He  had 
lived  a  life  which  would  have  ruined  twenty  iron  constitu- 
tions, and  had  suffered  what  might  well  have  broken  twenty 
hearts  of  common  stuff ;  but  his  self-complacency  was  in- 
vulnerable, his  animal  spirits  inexhaustible,  his  activity 
indefatigable.  The  eccentricities  of  this  singular  man 
have  been  matter  of  celebrity  ;  but  against  each  of  these 
stories  it  would  be  easy  to  place  some  act  of  benevolence, 
some  trait  of  gentlemanly  feeling,  which  would  at  least 
neutralise  their  effect.  He  often  told  me  that  he  had  early 
in  life  selected  three  models  after  which  to  form  his  own 
character  and  conduct ;  namely,  De  Grammont,  Hotspur, 
and  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  :  and  he  certainly  did  unite, 
in  a  greater  degree  than  he  knew  himself,  the  character- 
istics of  all  three. 

Having  quoted  thus  far,  I  must  give  from  the 
same  lively  page  a  charming  anecdote  of  this  won- 
derful old  man.  Mrs.  Jameson  is  giving  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  first  German  performance  of  the  opera 
of  '  Don  Giovanni '  which  she  had  heard,  and  which 
half  displeased  and  half  delighted  her  : — 

On  looking  round  after  Donna  Anna's  song,  I  was 
surprised  to  see  our  Chef  de  Voyage  bathed  in  tears  ; 
but,  no  whit  disconcerted,  he  merely  wiped  them  away, 
saying,  with  a  smile,  '  It  is  the  very  prettiest,  softest  thing 
to  cry  to  one's  self ! '  Afterwards,  when  we  were  in  the 
carriage,  he  expressed  his  surprise  that  any  man  should 
be  ashamed  of  tears.  '  For  my  own  part,'  he  added, 
'  when  I  wish  to  enjoy  the  very  high  sublime  of  luxury,  I 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  51 


dine  alone,  order  a  mutton  cutlet  cuite  a  point  with  a  bottle 
of  Burgundy  on  one  side  and  Ovid's  Epistle  of  Penelope  to 
Ulysses  on  the  other.  And  so  I  read,  and  eat,  and  cry  to 
myself.'  And  then  he  repeated  with  enthusiasm — 

Hanc  tua  Penelope  lento  tibi  mittit,  Ulysse  : 
Nil  mihi  rescribas,  attamen  ipse  veni  ; 

his  eyes  glistening  as  he  recited  the  lines. 

A  great  many  of  the  incidents  and  observations 
that  occurred  during  this  tour  will  be  found  in  the 
volumes  I  have  already  quoted  from,  and  which 
will  be  referred  to  further  on.  In  the  meantime, 
a  bit  of  more  familiar  description  may  be  added 
from  the  family  report  addressed  from  Brussels  to 
the  mother  and  sisters  at  home  : 

We  have  reached  this  place,  one  of  our  chosen  stations 
on  the  journey,  and  I  am  quite  delighted  with  what  I 
have  seen  of  it,  and  pleased  with  all  my  travelling  com- 
panions, but  most  of  all  with  Sir  Gerard,  who  is  really 
very  amiable  and  very  interesting,  and  H.  J.1  and  I  get  on 
capitally  together.  She  is  a  dear  little  creature,  with  some 
of  her  father's  caprices,  much  of  his  talent,  and  more  of  his 
real  benevolence.  As  to  papa,  he  is  in  excellent  spirits, 
and  desires  me  to  tell  you  that  he  behaves  very  well.  He 
goes  wandering  about  and  admiring  everything  he  sees  ; 
and  he  has  bought  a  pair  of  spectacles  for  tenpence  which 
are  the  best  in  the  world,  and  a  pair  for  mamma,  and  a 
lantern  for  Edward2  to  send  up  at  his  kite's  tail,  with 
other  invaluable  things  too  many  to  enumerate  ;  and  I 
think  I  never  saw  him  so  happy  or  looking  better. 

1  Sir  Gerard  Noel's  youngest  daughter,  born  of  his  second  wife, 
who  died  at  her  birth. 
a  His  nephew. 

E  2 


52  ANNA  JAMESON. 

The  recollections  of  this  journey  were  probably 
in  Mrs.  Jameson's  mind  when  long  after,  quoting  in 
her'  Commonplace  Book  '  Wtlkie's  remark  that  there 
was  '  nothing  new  to  him  in  the  whole  country ' 
which  Teniers,  Rubens,  and  Wouvermans  had  illus- 
trated, she  adds  :  '  I  had  the  same  feeling  when 
travelling  in  Holland  and  Belgium.  It  was  to  me 
a  perpetual  succession  of  reminiscences,  and  so  it  has 
been  with  others.  Rubens  and  Rembrandt  were 
continually  in  my  mind,  and  occasionally  the  more 
poetic  Ruysdael.' 

The  family  history  had  not  been  without  other 
events  during  this  period,  which  had  been  of  so 
much  importance  in  Anna's  life.  Two  of  her  sisters 
had  married,  one  in  the  same  year  as  herself,  1825, 
and  one  a  year  later ;  and  it  was  with  the  first  of 
these,  Louisa,  Mrs.  Bate,  the  wife  of  an  artist,  that 
she  took  up  her  abode  on  her  return  from  her 
continental  journey.  Her  father  and  mother,  and 
the  two  unmarried  sisters,  Eliza  and  Charlotte,  had 
taken  a  pleasant  house  set  in  a  large  garden  at  St. 
John's  Wood,  Mr.  Murphy  continuing  those  artist 
excursions  of  his,  for  pleasure  and  profit,  which  were 
the  delight  of  his  existence,  and  which,  alas !  were 
now  soon  to  cease  for  him  for  ever.  In  1830,  while 
at  Scraptoft,  near  Leicester,  he  addressed  the  fol- 
lowing little  note  to  his  'dearest  Anna,'  which 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  53 


throws  a  slight  incidental  light  upon  the  family  cir- 
cumstances at  the  time : 

I  do  not  expect  you  can  spare  time  to  write  to  me,  but 
nevertheless  I  will  write  to  you,  as  I  think  it  will  please 
you  ;  but  on  no  account  waste  your  precious  moments  or 
your  ink  to  a  purpose  so  entirely  unprofitable.  I  am  in 
earnest,  and  if  the  good  people  in  St.  John's  Wood  will 
only  mention  you  (pleasantly)  whenever  they  write,  I  will 
be  satisfied.  I  hear  with  particular  delight  that  our  dear 
baby  is  beginning  to  look  well,  and  as  if  she  meant  to  live 
after  all ;  and  you  must  for  me  congratulate  Henry  and 
Louisa,  and  say  I  wish  I  could  be  of  real  use  to  them.  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  you  have  no  accounts  from  Jameson 
lately.  I  am  not  surprised  at  this,  as  I  never  had  much 
dependence  on  your  pecuniary  aid  from  the  West  Indies. 
Your  comforts  will  most  likely  in  future  depend  on  your- 
self. How  many  plates  has  Wright  engraved  lately  ? 

This  question  refers  to  a  series  of  copper-plates 
in  process  of  engraving  from  certain  exquisite  copies 
in  miniature  made  by  Mr.  Murphy  of  the  collection  of 
portraits  known  as  '  The  Windsor  Beauties,'  painted 
for  King  Charles  II.  by  Sir  Peter  Lely,  and  now 
collected  at  Hampton  Court.  These  copies  were 
commenced  in  1814  by  command  of  the  Princess 
Charlotte,  in  whose  household,  from  the  year  1810, 
Mr.  Murphy  had  held  the  appointment  of  Painter  in 
Enamel.  To  the  original  series  had  been  added, 
'  by  express  desire,'  several  portraits  not  included  in 
the  Windsor  series,  and  among  these  Nell  Gwynn 
and  Louise  de  la  Querouaille.  At  the  time  these 


54  ANNA  JAMESON. 


miniatures  were  in  progress,  an  apartment  in  Wind- 
sor Castle  was  allotted  to  the  artist,  and  during 
his  stay  the  princesses,  one  and  all,  were  wont 
occasionally  to  amuse  themselves  by  coming  to  visit 
the  painter  at  his  work,  and  conversing  with  him  on 
the  subject  of  the  portraits,  in  which  and  in  his  suc- 
cessful rendering  of  the  likenesses  they  took  the 
liveliest  and  kindest  interest. 

'  Mr.  Murphy  had  also  the  honour,'  says  an  old 
preface  to  the  publication  of  the  biographical 
sketches  written  to  illustrate  his  labours,  '  of  sub- 
mitting the  first  eight  portraits  of  the  series,  when 
finished,  to  the  late  Queen  Charlotte,  in  a  special 
audience ;  and  she  not  only  expressed  her  satisfac- 
tion in  the  most  gracious  terms,  but  ordered  it  to  be 
conveyed  to  him  in  writing  by  General  Taylor.' 
Mr.  Murphy  took  the  liberty  of  asking  her  Majesty 
whether  she  recollected  a  famous  picture  of  Nell 
Gwynn,  known  to  have  once  existed  in  the  Windsor 
Gallery.  (It  should  be  observed  that  Queen  Char- 
lotte was  suspected  of  having,  from  peculiar  notions 
of  propriety,  removed  this  picture.)  The  queen 
replied  at  once,  that  most  assuredly,  since  she  had 
resided  at  Windsor,  there  had  been  no  Nell  Gwynn 
there ! 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  so  proper  a  person 
as  Queen  Charlotte  could  have  intended  anything 
beyond  a  mere  statement  of  facts  by  such  an 


AFTER  MARR/AGE.  55 


equivocal  reply ;  but  it  caught  the  fancy  and  the 
memory  of  the  Irish  artist,  always  ready  to  see  a 
joke,  and  he  carried  home  the  unintentional  repartee 
to  his  girls  with  much  merriment,  as  also  another 
little  pleasantry  of  a  more  straightforward  kind. 
When  the  whole  series  of  the  Lely  pictures  was 
completed,  and  exhibited  to  the  Princess  Charlotte 
herself,  she  could  not  refrain  from  a  malicious  little 
joke  at  the  expense  of  the  grandmother,  between 
whom  and  herself  existed  nothing  in  common  be- 
yond their  name.  '  Mr.  Murphy,'  she  said,  '  I  see 
the  set  of  portraits  is  not  complete.' 

'  Indeed,  I  believe  your  Royal  Highness  will 
find  that  none  have  been  omitted.' 

'  Nay,  Mr.  Murphy  ;  "  The  Windsor  Beauties  "  are 
not  complete.  You  haven't  got  my  grandmother  ! ' 

Before  the  other  portraits  that  were  to  complete 
the  series  were  finished,  the  Princess  Charlotte  died, 
and  with  her  the  hopes,  fortunes,  and  happiness  of 
many  to  whom  she  had  shown  kindness.  Mr. 
Murphy  was  one  among  those  unfortunate  persons 
whose  personal  affliction  was  for  a  time  swallowed  up 
in  the  general  grief.  He  had  lost  a  kind  friend  and 
patroness,  had  lost  his  appointment,  and  had  re- 
ceived no  payment  for  work  that  had  occupied  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  during  three  years,  and  was 
now  near  its  completion.  After  the  lapse  of  a 
certain  time,  Mr.  Murphy  sent  his  copies,  with  a 


56  ANNA  JAMESON. 


written  statement  of  his  claims,  duly  authenticated, 
to  the  proper  quarter,  with  in  addition  a  '  memorial ' 
to  Prince  Leopold,  informing  him  of  the  circum- 
stances, and  stating  that  the  artist  had  '  received  the 
commands  of  her  late  Royal  Highness,  the  ever- 
lamented>  Princess  Charlotte,  to  paint  a  set  of  the 
beauties  of  King  Charles  II.'s  reign,  copied  from  the 
originals  in  his  Majesty's  collection  at  Windsor,  and 
from  other  celebrated  pictures  in  private  collections, 
and  that  this  circumstance  is  well  known  to  the 
royal  family  and  those  of  her  Royal  Highness's 
household  who  possessed  her  confidence  ;  that  on 
this  undertaking  much  time  and  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  had  been  expended,  in  the  certainty  of 
being  remunerated  by  her  Royal  Highness's  munifi- 
cent patronage  ;  but  that  when  the  artist's  object  was 
nearly  completed,  all  his  hopes  were  crushed  by  that 
fatal  event  which  had  plunged  a  nation  into  mourn- 
ing.' The  memorial  goes  on  to  say  that  Mr.  Murphy 
had  forborne  to  intrude  himself  on  the  notice  of 
Prince  Leopold  from  motives  of  delicacy — '  but  hear- 
ing that  it  is  your  Royal  Highness's  wish  to  fulfil  as 
far  as  possible  the  intentions  of  our  lamented  prin- 
cess, he  ventures  to  make  this  appeal  to  your  Royal 
Highness's  justice  and  munificence  ;  and  only  re- 
quests to  know  whether  he  may  be  permitted  to 
execute  his  original  design  under  the  auspices  of 
your  Royal  Highness,  and  with  the  same  hopes  and 


AFTER   MARRIAGE.  57 


prospects  which  her  late  Royal  Highness  graciously 
allowed  him  to  indulge.' 

This  '  memorial '  obtained  only  the  following 
reply  from  Sir  Robert  Gardiner,  the  prince's  secre- 
tary, dated  Claremont,  July  7,  1818  : 

Sir, — I  have  laid  your  letter  before  the  Prince  Leopold, 
and  have  submitted  your  drawings  (?)  to  his  Royal  High- 
ness's  inspection.  His  Royal  Highness  expressed  no  wish 
to  become  a  purchaser,  but  enquired  if  I  knew  the  amount 
you  valued  them  at.  If  you  will  inform  me  of  this  by  this 
evening's  post,  it  would  perhaps  prevent  your  having  the 
trouble  of  a  journey  to  Esher,  in  the  event  of  his  Royal 
Highness  becoming  a  purchaser.  Do  not,  however,  let  me 
lead  you  to  suppose  that  will  be  the  case,  as  he  made  no 
intimation  whatever  of  such  an  intention.  When  I  receive 
your  answer  I  will  make  it  known  to  the  prince,  and  lose 
no  time  in  communicating  to  you  whatever  his  Royal 
Highness's  decision  may  be. 

The  terms  were  at  once  made  known  to  the 
prince's  secretary  ;  but  any  hopes  that  might  natu- 
rally enough  have  been  entertained  of  the  result  of 
the  application  were  altogether  set  aside  within  a 
few  days  by  the  decision  of  Prince  Leopold,  as  com- 
municated by  Sir  Robert  Gardiner,  who  '  takes  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  forwarding  to  Mr.  Murphy 
the  drawings  left  at  Claremont  Lodge  for  the  Prince 
Leopold's  inspection,  and  to  inform  Mr.  Murphy  that 
his  Royal  Highness  does  not  wish  to  purchase  them.' 

This  disappointment,  it  may  easily  be  supposed, 


58  ANNA  JAMESON. 


was  no  small  blow  to  a  man  depending  upon  his 
own  exertions.  The  loss  of  time  .and  money  and 
work,  which  every  true  artist  values  more  than 
either,  was  irreparable ;  and  no  attempt  ever  was 
made  to  help  or  to  compensate.  It  was  not  till  ten 
years  later  that  an  effort  was  made  to  put  so  much 
labour  to  some  use,  and  the  plan  was  formed  of  en- 
graving the  portraits  and  publishing  them  in  a  book, 
with  illustrative  memoirs  from  the  pen  of  the  artist's 
daughter.  The  original  edition  of  '  The  Beauties 
of  the  Court  of  King  Charles  II.'  appeared  accord- 
ingly in  an  expensive  quarto  volume,  illustrated  by 
the  portraits.  The  text  accompanying  them,  '  a 
Series  of  Memoirs,  Biographical  and  Critical,  illus- 
trating the  Diaries  of  Pepys,  Evelyn,  Clarendon, 
and  other  contemporary  writers,'  was  compiled  with 
spirit  and  taste ;  but  the  outlay  necessary  for  the 
production  of  such  a  work  so  absorbed  the  profits 
that  the  desired  result  was  not  attained.  This  was 
the  work  undertaken  and  '  published  in  the  hope  of 
affording  pecuniary  aid  to  the  author's  father,  then  in 
difficulties,'  which  is  referred  to  in  Miss  Martineau's 
sketch  of  my  aunt's  life,  published  at  the  period 
of  her  death  in  the  '  Daily  News  ; '  though  Miss 
Martineau  makes  the  statement  erroneously  (and 
somewhat  injuriously)  with  respect  to  Mrs.  Jameson's 
first  publication,  the  history  of  which  has  already 
been  given. 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  59 


Up  to  this  time,  with  the  exception  of  the  book 
just  referred  to,  Mrs.  Jameson's  works  had  been 
entirely  of  a  personal  character  :  the  records  of  her 
own  wanderings  and  thinkings,  her  opinions  upon 
art  and  artists  ;  her  impressions  of  people  she  had 
met  and  things  which  she  had  seen  ;  works  taking 
very  much  of  their  value  from  the  delicate  thread  of 
individual  character  which  ran  through  them — the 
attractive  suggestion  of  a  cultivated  and  graceful 
companion  conducting  the  reader  through  many  fair 
scenes  and  among  many  notable  objects  and  persons 
— rather  than  of  a  book,  an  absolute  and  impersonal 
thing.  Now,  however,  emboldened  by  success,  and  by 
the  graver  impulses  of  a  mature  intellect,  she  under- 
took a  more  serious  book,  her  first  important  con- 
tribution to  literature.  This  was  the  work  entitled 
'  Characteristics  of  Women,'  a  series  of  essays  on  the 
female  characters  of  Shakespeare — a  happy  subject, 
most  happily  treated.  It  was  a  kind  of  study  pecu- 
liarly delightful  to  her  own  mind,  one  into  which 
she  threw  all  the  fascination  of  her  own  enthusiasm 
for  the  greatest  of  poets,  quickened  by  much  true 
and  genial  insight  into  womanly  character  and  the 
light  which  poetry  throws  upon  its  ideal  impersona- 
tions. The  spirit  in  which  this  work  was  undertaken 
she  herself  explains  in  the  following  words  : 

These  studies  were  written,  not  to  present  a  complete 
commentary  on  Shakespeare's  women ;    such   an    under- 


6o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

taking  would  have  required  much  more  critical  learning 
than  I  possess,  a  profounder  knowledge  of  the  spirit  of 
past  ages,  and  more  acquaintance  with  the  sources  whence 
Shakespeare  drew  his  incidents  and  materials.  I  must 
have  dived  far  deeper  into  that  vast,  perplexing  chaos  of 
tradition,  poetry,  history,  romance,  real  life,  whence  he 
conjured  up  spirits  of  grace,  intellect,  grandeur,  and  bade 
them  stand  before  us,  clothed  in  the  aspects  and  passions 
of  humanity.  I  could  not  do  this,  but  I  selected  a  few 
among  the  creatures  of  his  art  for  particular  consideration, 
merely  to  throw  into  a  pleasing  and  intelligible  form  some 
observations  on  the  natural  workings  of  mind  and  feeling 
in  my  own  sex,  which  might  lead  to  good.  More  than 
this  I  never  designed,  more  than  this  I  never  attempted  ; 
and  what  I  have  attempted  I  sincerely  wish  I  had  done 
better. 

The  introductory  dialogue  imagined  as  between 
herself  and  a  friend,1  at  once  her  counsellor  and  critic, 
explains  yet  more  elaborately  the  spirit  in  which  her 
essays  were  conceived.  In  the  intimacy  which  had 
sprung  up  between  herself  and  the  members  of  the 
Kemble  family,  it  was  natural  that  they  should  be 
among  those  consulted  with  regard  to  the  general 
plan.  Even  the  less  important  particular  of  the 
name  under  which  the  book  should  appear,  would 
seem  to  have  been  referred  to  these  friends,  as  we 

1  Mrs.  Jameson's  own  copy  ot  this  book,  now  in  the  possession  of 
her  sister,  is  full  of  marginal  notes,  in  which  something  very  similar 
to  this  dialogue  is  carried  on,  another  hand  making  continual  remarks 
and  suggestions,  which  are  now  and  then  responded  to  in  her  own 
writing. 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  61 

see  from  a  letter,  dated  August  30  of  that  year, 
from  Fanny  Kemble : 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  which  name  appears  best  for  your 
book  ;  the  fact  is,  I  flew  off  into  ecstasies  about  the  work 
itself,  and  gave  you,  I  believe,  a  tirade  about  the  '  Tempest' 
instead  of  the  opinion  you  asked.  I  agree  with  you  that 
there  is  much  in  the  name  of  a  work  ;  it  is  almost  as 
desirable  that  a  book  should  be  well  called,  as  that  it 
should  be  well  written  ;  a  promising  title-page  is  like  an 
agreeable  face,  an  inducement  to  further  acquaintance, 
and  an  earnest  of  future  pleasure.  For  myself,  I  prefer 
'  Characters  of  Shakespeare's  Women  ; '  it  is  shorter,  and 
I  think  will  look  better  than  the  other  in  print. 

The  first  edition  appeared  in  1832,  having  a 
graceful  etching  by  the  writer  for  its  frontispiece, 
representing  a  female  figure  seated  dejectedly  be- 
neath a  tall  lily  bush,  a  tiny  bark  vanishing  into  a 
stormy  distance,  and  the  words  '  To  Fanny  Kemble 
this  little  work  is  dedicated.'  In  the  first  American 
edition,  published  in  New  York  five  years  later,  this 
dedication  is  repeated  in  her  friend's  married  name, 
with  a  few  additional  words  of  affectionate  recollec- 
tion. '  I  have  particular  pleasure,'  Mrs.  Jameson 
says,  '  my  dearest  Fanny,  in  once  more  dedicating 
to  you,  by  your  new  name  in  a  new  land,  this  little 
book,  which  in  its  progress  you  cherished,  and 
which  without  you  would  in  all  probability  never 
have  been  published.' 

Before  this  work  came  into  being,  several  other 
sketches,  however,  had  been  written,  the  greater  part 


62  ANNA  JAMESON. 


of  which  were  collected  in  the  four  volumes  of 
'Visits  and  Sketches'  already  referred  to.  In  1830, 
Fanny  Kemble  alludes  to  one  of  these  fugitive 
pieces,  telling  a  friend  that  '  a  series  of  sketches  by 
Mr.  Hayter,  from  "  The  Juliet,"  is  coming  out,  with 
a  species  of  avant-propos  by  Mrs.  Jameson — a 
beautifully  written  but  too  flattering  notice  of  my 
performance.  The  original  drawings  were  purchased 
by  Lord  Ellesmere.' 

The  same  chronicler  describes  another  sketch, 
that  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  an  account  of  whose  career 
Mrs.  Jameson  had  written  a  few  days  after  her  death. 

Mrs.  Jameson  (writes  Mrs.  Kemble)  at  one  time  con- 
templated writing  a  life  of  my  aunt  Siddons,  not  thinking 
Boaden's  biography  of  her  satisfactory.  In  this  purpose, 
however,  she  was  effectually  opposed  by  Campbell,  who  had 
undertaken  the  work ;  and,  though  he  exhibited  neither 
interest  nor  zeal  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  task,  doggedly  (in 
the  manger)  refused  to  relinquish  it  to  her.  Certainly,  had 
Mrs.  Jameson  carried  out  her  intentions,  Mrs.  Siddons 
would  have  had  a  monument  dedicated  to  her  memory 
better  calculated  to  preserve  it  than  those  which  the  above- 
named  gentleman  bestowed  on  her.  It  would  have  been 
written  in  a  spirit  of  far  higher  artistic  discrimination,  and 
with  infinitely  more  sympathy  with  the  woman  and  with 
the  actress. 

Of  the  sketch  that  did  appear,  Mrs.  Jameson 
says  : 

A  misapprehension  of  the  real  character  of  this  remark- 
able woman,  which  I  know  to  exist  in  the  minds  of  many 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  63 

who  admired  and  venerated  her  talents,  has  induced  me  to 
enlarge  the  first  very  slight  sketch  into  a  more  finished  but 
still  inadequate  portrait.  I  have  spared  no  pains  to  verify 
the  truth  of  my  own  conception  by  testimony  of  every  kind 
that  was  attainable.  I  have  penned  every  word  as  if  I  had 
been  in  that  great  final  court  where  the  thoughts  of  all 
hearts  are  manifested,  and  those  who  best  knew  the  indi- 
vidual I  have  attempted  to  delineate  bear  witness  to  the 
fidelity  of  the  portrait,  as  far  as  it  goes.  I  must  be  per- 
mitted to  add  that,  in  this  and  the  succeeding  sketch,1  I 
have  not  only  been  inspired  by  the  wish  to  do  justice  to 
individual  virtue  and  talent ;  I  wished  to  impress  and 
illustrate  that  important  truth  that  a  gifted  woman  may 
pursue  a  public  vocation,  yet  preserve  the  purity  and  main- 
tain the  dignity  of  herself — that  there  is  no  prejudice  which 
will  not  shrink  away  before  moral  energy,  and  no  profession 
which  may  not  be  made  compatible  with  the  respect  due 
to  us  as  women,  the  cultivation  of  every  feminine  virtue, 
and  the  practice  of  every  private  duty.  I  might  here 
multiply  examples  and  exceptions,  and  discuss  causes  and 
results,  but  it  is  a  consideration  I  reserve  for  another 
opportunity. 

This  is  an  indication,  though  not  the  first,  how 
much  the  special  difficulties  of  women — a  subject 
naturally  occupying  the  attention  of  female  writers 
at  all  times — already  filled  her  thoughts. 

Mr.  Jameson  returned  from  Dominica  early  in 
the  year  1833,  and  rejoined  his  wife  at  the  house  of 
her  sister  Mrs.  Bate.  His  letters  in  the  meantime 
had  given  often  a  very  lively  account  of  the  island 

1  That  of  Fanny  Kemble. 


64  ANNA  JAMESON, 


to  which  he  had  been  temporarily  banished,  and  in 
which  his  circumstances  were  not  sufficiently  com- 
fortable, nor  his  appointment  of  a  sufficiently  satis- 
factory character,  to  induce  any  longer  stay  than  was 
absolutely  necessary,  or  to  offer  any  inducement  to  his 
wife  to  join  him.  They  remained  together  in  Lon- 
don till  the  spring,  when,  having  procured  another 
and  more  hopeful  appointment  through  his  wife's 
influential  friends,  Mr.  Jameson  set  out  for  Canada, 
this  time  with  a  full  intention  on  his  part  to  prepare 
there  a  home  for  her,  and  a  promise  on  hers  that 
she  should  join  him  whenever  he  had  become  fully 
acquainted  with,  and  felt  fairly  established  in,  his 
new  position.  In  the  meantime  literary  engage- 
ments had  increased  upon  her.  She  had  become 
well  known  and  popular,  her  works  being  of  a  kind 
which  made  their  author  known  to  her  readers  more 
than  is  the  case  with  literary  productions  of  a  more 
abstract  nature.  And  before  her  husband's  departure 
it  is  evident  that  she  had  planned  a  continental 
expedition  of  a  more  serious  and  independent  kind 
than  heretofore  ;  no  longer  as  a  member  of  a  party, 
but  on  her  own  account,  and  for  objects  connected 
with  her  literary  career. 

Accordingly  in  1833  Mrs.  Jameson  went  to  Ger- 
many, where  she  found  a  kindly  welcome  among  the 
highest  literary  and  social  circles.  Her  name  as  the 
writer  of  the  essays  on  Shakespeare's  heroines  was 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  65 

already  familiar  there,  and  the  warmth  of  her  recep- 
tion was  enhanced  by  certain  valuable  letters  of 
introduction  furnished  her  by  a  gentleman,  then  a 
new  acquaintance,  but  later  one  of  her  dearest  and 
most  trusted  friends. 

Previous  to  Mr.  Jameson's  departure  for  Canada, 
Behnes  Burlowe,  a  promising  young  sculptor  of 
their  acquaintance,1  brought  his  friend  Robert  Noel, 
a  cousin  of  Lady  Noel  Byron's,  to  introduce  him. 
This  gentleman  had  learned  to  know  Mrs.  Jameson 
already  through  her  books,  and  his  admiration  for 
the  writer  soon  warmed  into  the  most  chivalric 
attachment,  the  truest  and  most  beautiful  form  of 
friendship — a  friendship  fully  shared  by  the  young 
German  wife,  who  soon  after  made  a  trio  of  this 
pair  of  friends.  I  cannot  pass  over  this  first  men- 
tion of  Major  Noel's  name  without  a  grateful  recol- 
lection of  all  he  was  to  my  aunt  for  the  rest  of 
her  life,  or  at  least  till  the  last  few  years  of  her 
life,  when  she  voluntarily  resigned,  for  a  sad  reason 
that  will  be  explained  later,  the  friendship  which 
had  been  a  source  of  so  much  pleasure  to  her.  He 
and  his  wife  were  as  brother  and  sister  to  her ; 
constant  friends,  as  friends  are  seldom  found  ;  full  of 
sympathy  in  all  the  changes  of  her  lot ;  helping  and 
helped  in  perfect  mutual  confidence  and  depend- 

1  Burlowe  died  in  Rome  of  cholera  in  1837,  owing  his  death  to  his 
indefatigable  care  of  others  during  the  epidemic. 

F 


66  ANNA  JAMESON. 

ence  ;  sharing  such  secrets  as  she  had,  appreciating 
and  believing  in  her  always.  The  survivors  now 
are  as  faithful  to  her  memory  as  they  were  to  herself 
throughout  her  life.  Her  letters  to  this  kind  pair  of 
friends  have  furnished,  as  will  be  seen,  a  large  portion 
of  the  most  interesting  material  I  have  had  at  my 
disposal. 

Mr.  Noel  had  lived  some  time  in  Germany,  and 
was  able  to  offer  very  acceptable  information,  as 
well  as  numerous  letters  of  introduction.  It  must 
have  been  soon  after  her  arrival  that  the  fol- 
lowing passage  occurs  in  one  of  her  early  letters  to 
him: 

I  intend  to  work  very  hard  at  German.  Till  I  can  obtain 
a  command  of  the  language,  I  am  '  cribbed,  cabined,  con- 
fined ; '  I  can  do  nothing.  I  was  enchanted  when  I  read 
the  name  of  Tieck  in  your  letter.  He  has  identified  him- 
self with  our  Shakespeare,  and  his  name  and  fame  are  so 
familiar  to  me,  and  associated  with  so  many  dear  pursuits 
and  intimate  feelings,  that  instead  of  saying,  like  most 
people,  '  I  must  learn  German  to  read  Schiller — to  read 
Goethe,'  I  have  always  said  '  I  must  learn  German  to  read 
Tieck.'  He  appears  to  me  one  of  the  least  translatable  of 
the  German  authors  of  celebrity. 

After  these  words  of  enthusiasm  it  is  natural 
that  her  introduction  to  Tieck  should  have  been  one 
of  the  interesting  points  in  her  expedition.  She 
gives  a  description  of  it  in  the  '  Visits  and  Sketches/ 
in  which  she  speaks  of  him  as  having  succeeded  at 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  67 

the  death  of  Goethe  '  to  the  vacant  throne  of 
genius.'  '  His  house  in  the  Altmarkt,'  she  adds, 
'  the  tall  red  house  at  the  south-west  corner,  is  the 
resort  of  all  the  enlightened  strangers  who  flock  to 
Dresden ;  even  those  who  know  nothing  of  Tieck 
but  his  name,  deem  an  introduction  to  him  as  indis- 
pensable as  a  visit  to  the  Madonna  di  San  Sisto.' 
And  here  is  the  record  of  her  own  visit  to  him : 

It  was  with  some  trepidation  that  I  found  myself  in  the 
presence  of  this  extraordinary  man.  Notwithstanding  his 
profound  knowledge  of  our  language,  he  rarely  spoke  Eng- 
lish, and,  like  Alfieri,  he  will  not  speak  French.  I  addressed 
him  in  English,  and  he  spoke  to  me  in  German.  The  con- 
versation in  my  first  visit  fell,  very  naturally,  upon  Shake- 
speare, for  I  had  been  looking  over  his  admirable  new  trans- 
lation of 'Macbeth,'- which  he  had  just  completed.  '  Macbeth' 
led  us  to  the  English  theatre  and  English  acting — to  Mrs. 
Siddons  and  the  Kembles,  and  the  actual  character  and 
state  of  our  stage.  While  he  spoke  I  could  not  help  looking 
at  his  head,  which  is  wonderfully  fine  :  the  noble  breadth 
and  amplitude  of  his  brow,  and  his  quiet  but  penetrating 
eye,  with  an  expression  of  latent  humour  hovering  round 
the  lips,  formed  altogether  a  striking  physiognomy.  .  .  .  His 
manner  is  courteous,  and  his  voice  peculiarly  sweet  and 
winning.  He  is  apparently  fond  of  the  society  of  women, 
or  the  women  are  fond  of  his  society,  for  in  the  evening  his 
rooms  are  generally  crowded  with  fair  worshippers.  .  .  . 
Tieck's  extraordinary  talent  for  reading  aloud  is  much  and 
deservedly  celebrated.  He  gives  dramatic  readings  two  or 
three  times  a  week  when  his  health  and  his  avocations  allow 
this  exertion.  The  company  assemble  at  six,  and  it  is 
advisable  to  be  punctual  to  the  moment :  soon  afterwards 

F  2 


68  ANNA  JAMESON. 

tea  is  served,  and  he  begins  to  read  at  seven  precisely, 
when  the  doors  are  closed  against  all  intrusion  whatever, 
and  he  reads  through  a  whole  play  without  pause,  rest, 
omission,  or  interruption.  Thus  I  heard  him  read  '  Julius 
Caesar"  and  the  '  Midsummer  Night's  Dream'  (in  the  German 
translation  by  himself  and  Schlegel),  and,  except  Mrs. 
Siddons,  I  never  heard  anything  comparable  as  dramatic 
reading.  His  voice  is  rich  and  capable  of  great  variety  of 
modulation.  I  observed  that  the  humorous  and  declama- 
tory passages  were  rather  better  than  the  pathetic  and 
tender  passages  :  he  was  quite  at  home  among  the  elves 
and  clowns  in  the  '  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,'  of  which  he 
gave  the  fantastic  and  comic  parts  with  indescribable 
humour  and  effect.  As  to  the  translation  I  could  only 
judge  of  its  marvellous  fidelity  which  enabled  me  to  follow 
him  word  for  word  ;  but  the  Germans  themselves  are 
equally  enchanted  by  its  vigour  and  elegance  and  poetical 
colouring. 

I  must  pause  here,  at  the  risk  of  breaking  for  a 
moment  the  thread  of  my  narrative,  to  note  a  curious 
little  memento  of  this  intercourse  which  exists, 
of  all  places  in  the  world,  in  the  British  Museum, 
where  may  be  found  (though  how  it  got  there  I  have 
not  an  idea)  the  copy  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  '  Characteris- 
tics of  Women '  presented  by  the  authoress  to  Ludwig 
Tieck,  with  pencil  notes  on  the  margins  evincing  the 
careful  perusal  given  to  the  volume  by  the  great 
German  critic,  and  on  the  first  fly-leaf  the  following 
in  his  own  somewhat  crabbed  German  text : 

Dieses  Buch  ist  mir  von  der  Verfasserinn  im  Winter  des 
Jahres  1833  gesandt  worden.     Wegen  einer  Anmerkung 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  69 


die  mich  betrifft  (torn.  ii.  p.  312),  war  sie  in  Verlegenheit, 
und  sie  hatte  ein  Blatt  iiber  diese  Stelle  geleimt.  Meine 
Neugier  war  so  ungeschickt,  dass  sie  im  Ablosen  die  An- 
merkung  selbst  fast  ganz  zerstorte.  Um  so  sonderbarer, 
weil  gerade  meine  Ansicht  iiber  Lady  Macbeth  ganz  mit 
der  verstandigen  Verfasserinn  (gegen  Gothe  und  die  meisten 
Critiken)  iibereintrifft.  — L.  Tieck. 

(Trans.)  This  book  was  sent  me  by  the  authoress  in 
the  winter  of  the  year  1833.  In  consequence  of  a  remark 
concerning  me  (vol.  ii.  page  312)'  she  had  felt  somewhat 
embarrassed,  and  had  pasted  a  piece  of  paper  over  this  por- 
tion of  the  page.  My  curiosity,  however,  was  so  awkward 
that,  in  endeavouring  to  remove  the  paper,  I  destroyed  the 
remark  itself.  And  this  fact  is  the  more  singular,  since  my 
opinion  regarding  Lady  Macbeth  entirely  coincides  with 
that  of  the  intelligent  authoress,  in  opposition  to  that  of 
Goethe  and  most  other  critics. 

But  Tieck's  marginal  notes  on  the  pages  delineat- 
ing the  character  of  Ophelia  show  that  he  did  not 
always  agree  with  the  views  taken  by  the  '  verstan- 
dige  Verfasserinn.'  At  page  257,  where  the  text 
runs  thus : — '  The  affection  of  the  Queen  for  this 
gentle  and  innocent  creature  is  one  of  those  beauti- 
ful redeeming  touches,  one  of  those  penetrating 
glances  into  the  secret  springs  of  natural  and  femi- 
nine feeling,  which  we  find  only  in  Shakespeare. 
Gertrude,  who  is  not  so  wholly  abandoned  but  that 

1  A  foot-note  saying  :  '  The  German  critic,  Tieck,  also  leans  to  this 
harsher  opinion,  judging  rather  from  the  manner  in  which  the  charac- 
ter is  usually  played  in  Germany  than  from  its  intrinsic  and  poetical 
construction.' 


70  ANNA  JAMESON. 

there  remains  within  her  heart  some  sense  of  the 
virtue  she  has  forfeited,  seems  to  look  with  a  kind 
yet  melancholy  complacency  on  the  lovely  being  she 
has  destined  for  the  bride  of  her  son  ;  and  the  scene 
in  which  she  is  introduced  as  scattering  flowers  on 
the  grave  of  Ophelia  is  one  of  those  effects  of  con- 
trast in  poetry,  in  character,  and  in  feeling,  at  once 
natural  and  unexpected,  which  fill  the  eye,  and  make 
the  heart  swell  and  tremble  within  itself,  like  the  night- 
ingales singing  in  the  grove  of  the  Furies,  in  Sopho- 
cles ' — in  this  passage  Tieck  has  underscored  the 
words  '  destined  for  the  bride  of  her  son,'  and  passed 
his  sentence  on  the  whole  thus  : — '  Dies  scheint  mir 
ganz  missverstanden.'  '  Etwa  der  Worte  wegen  die 
die  Koniginn  auf  dem  Kirchhof  spricht  ?  Es  sind 
nur  Worte ;  Trostworte  des  Laertes  wegen.'  On 
the  next  page  at  the  words,  '  So  that,  when  she  is 
brought  to  court,  she  seems,  in  her  loveliness  and  per- 
fect purity,  like  a  seraph  that  had  wandered  out  of 
bounds,  and  yet  breathed  on  earth  the  air  of  Para- 
dise/ the  commentator  puts  against  them  a  double 
score  and  quite  an  angry  little  note  of  interroga- 
tion!  At  page  272,  where  Mrs.  Jameson,  after 
giving  her  reasons,  says  :  '  And  therefore  do  I  think 
that  the  mighty  intellect,  the  capacious,  soaring, 
penetrating  genius  of  Hamlet  may  be  represented, 
without  detracting  from  its  grandeur,  as  reposing 
upon  the  tender  virgin  innocence  of  Ophelia,  with  all 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  71 

that  deep  delight  with  which  a  superior  nature  con- 
templates the  goodness  which  is  at  once  perfect  in 
itself,  and  of  itself  unconscious' — Tieck  has  under- 
lined the  words  '  virgin  innocence,'  and  placed  two 
of  his  interrogations.  At  the  foot  of  page  274, 
where  Hamlet's  madness  is  thus  closely  analysed  with 
reference  specially  to  his  love  for  Ophelia  :  '  We  do 
not  see  him  as  a  lover,  nor  as  Ophelia  first  beheld 
him  ;  for  the  days  when  he  importuned  her  with  love 
were  before  the  opening  of  the  drama — before  his 
father's  spirit  revisited  the  earth  ;  but  we  behold  him 
at  once  in  a  sea  of  troubles,  of  perplexities,,  of  agonies, 
of  terrors.  Without  remorse,  he  endures  all  its 
horrors  ;  without  guilt,  he  endures  all  its  shame.  A 
loathing  of  the  crime  he  is  called  on  to  revenge,  which 
revenge  is  again  abhorrent  to  his  nature,  has  set  him 
at  strife  with  himself ;  the  supernatural  visitation  has 
perturbed  his  soul  to  its  inmost  depths ;  all  things 
else,  all  interests,  all  hopes,  all  affections,  appear  as 
futile,  when  the  majestic  shadow  comes  lamenting 
from  its  place  of  torment  "  to  shake  him  with  thoughts 
beyond  the  reaches  of  his  soul."  His  love  for 
Ophelia  is  then  ranked  by  himself  among  those 
trivial  fond  records  which  he  has  deeply  sworn  to 
erase  from  his  heart  and  brain.  He  has  no  thought 
to  link  his  terrible  destiny  with  hers  :  he  cannot 
marry  her ;  he  cannot  reveal  to  her,  young,  gentle, 
innocent  as  she  is,  the  terrific  influences  which  have 


72  '•'-/  ANNA  JAMESON. 

changed  the  whole  current  of  his  life  and  purposes. 
In  his  distraction  he  overacts  the  painful  part  to 
which  he  had  tasked  himself :  he  is  like  that  judge  of 
the  Areopagus,  who,  being  occupied  with  graver 
matters,  flung  from  him  the  little  bird  which  had 
sought  refuge  in  his  bosom,  and  that  with  such  angry 
violence  that  unwittingly  he  killed  it  ' — at  the  foot 
of  this  page  we  read,  '  Hier  alles  oberst  lacherlich.' 

I  do  not  know  whether  Mrs.  Jameson  was  aware 
of  the  existence  of  this  copy  of  her  book,  in  its 
quaint  green  and  gold  German  binding,  of  a  fashion 
prevalent  in  Germany  half  a  century  ago,  on  the 
shelves  of  the  national  library. 

The  same  kind  of  human  interest,  more  lasting 
and  more  varied  than  that  called  forth  by  art  itself, 
is  again  thrown  round  the  city  of  Dresden,  in  which 
the  traveller  had  already  seen  Tieck  and  described 
him. for  her  readers,  by  a  very  lively  and  animated 
description  of  the  painter  Retzsch,  whom  she  de- 
scribes as  '  this  extraordinary  genius.'  He  was  one 
of  the  many  interesting  people  to  whom  she  was 
introduced  by  Mr.  Noel. 

The  professor  received  us  in  a  room  which  appeared  to 
answer  many  purposes,  being  obviously  a  sleeping  as  well 
as  a  sitting  room,  but  perfectly  neat  He  received  us  with 
open-hearted  frankness,  at  the  same  time  throwing  on  the 
stranger  one  of  those  quick  glances  which  seemed  to  look 
through  me  ;  in  return  I  contemplated  him  with  inexpres- 
sible interest.  His  figure  is  rather  larger  and  more  portly 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  73 

than  I  expected,  but  I  admired  his  fine  Titanic  head,  so 
large  and  sublime  in  its  expression  ;  his  light  blue  eye,  wild 
and  wide,  which  seemed  to  drink  in  meaning  and  flash  out 
light ;  his  hair  profuse,  grizzled,  and  flowing  in  masses 
round  his  head  ;  and  his  expanded  brow  full  of  poetry  and 
power.  In  his  deportment  he  is  a  mere  child  of  nature, 
simple,  careless,  saying  just  what  he  feels  and  thinks  at  the 
moment,  without  regard  to  forms,  yet  pleasing  from  the 
benevolent  earnestness  of  his  manner  and  intuitively  polite 
without  being  polished.  He  seems  to  have  received  from 
Nature  a  double  portion  of  the  inventive  faculty,  that  rarest 
of  all  her  good  gifts,  even  to  those  who  are  her  especial 
favourites. 

Mrs.  Jameson  goes  on  to  describe  at  length  various 
studies  which  she  saw  in  his  studio  and  sketch-books: 
one,  '  an  angel  smiling,'  a  '  most  lovely  head  in  which 
the  radiant  spirit  of  joy  seems  to  beam  from  every 
feature  at  once — enough  to  exorcise  a  whole  legion 
of  blue  devils  ; '  another,  '  a  wondrous  face  which 
made  me  shrink  back,  not  from  terror,  for  it  was  per- 
fectly beautiful,  but  with  awe  ' — this  was  the  angel  of 
death  ;  and  an  infinite  collection  besides.  '  If  any 
one  succeeds,'  she  exclaims  with  enthusiasm,  '  in 
embodying  the  idea  of  a  Miranda,  a  Caliban,  a 
Titania,  and  the  poetical  burlesque  of  the  Athenian 
clowns,  it  will  be  Retzsch,  whose  genius  embraces 
at  once  the  grotesque,  the  comic,  the  wild,  the  won- 
derful, the  fanciful,  the  elegant.' 

She  then  proceeds  to  tell  her  readers  of  a  visit 
paid  some  time  after  to  Retzsch's  country-house  : 


74  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Retzsch,  who  had  perceived  our  approach,  came  out  to 
meet  us,  took  me  under  his  arm  as  though  we  had  been 
friends  of  twenty  years'  standing,  and,  leading  me  into  his 
picturesque  domicile,  introduced  me  to  his  wife,  as  pretty  a 
piece  of  domestic  poetry  as  one  shall  see  on  a  summer's 
day.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  vinedresser  whom  Retzsch 
fell  in  love  with  while  she  was  yet  almost  a  child,  and  edu- 
cated for  his  wife — at  least  so  runs  the  tale.  At  the  first 
glance  I  detected  the  original  of  that  countenance  which, 
more  or  less  idealised,  runs  through  all  his  representations 
of  female  youth  and  beauty ;  here  was  the  model  both  in 
feature  and  expression.  She  smiled  upon  us  a  most  cor- 
dial welcome,  regaled  us  with  delicious  coffee  and  cakes 
prepared  by  herself,  then  taking  up  her  knitting  sat  down 
beside  us,  and  while  I  turned  over  admiringly  the  beautiful 
designs  with  which  her  husband  had  decorated  her  album 
the  looks  of  veneration  and  love  with  which  she  regarded 
him,  and  the  expression  of  kindly  delighted  sympathy  with 
which  she  smiled  upon  me,  I  shall  not  easily  forget.  As 
for  the  album  itself,  queens  might  have  envied  her  such 
homage,  and  what  would  not  a  dilettante  collector  have 
given  for  such  a  possession  !  After  spending  three  or  four 
hours  delightfully,  we  drove  home  in  silence  by  the  gleaming 
murmuring  river,  and  beneath  the  light  of  the  silent  stars. 
On  a  subsequent  visit  Retzsch  showed  me  many  more  of 
these  delicious  phantasies,  or  fancies,  as  he  called  them,  or, 
more  truly,  little  pieces  of  moral  or  lyrical  poetry  thrown 
into  palpable  form,  speaking  in  the  universal  language  of 
the  eye  to  the  universal  heart  of  man.  I  endeavoured  to 
persuade  Retzsch  that  he  could  not  do  better  than  publish 
some  of  these  exquisite  Fancies,  and  when  I  left  him  he 
entertained  the  idea  of  doing  so  at  some  future  period.  To 
adopt  his  own  language,  the  Genius  of  Art  could  not  pre- 
sent to  the  Genius  of  Humanity  a  more  delightful  and  a 
more  profitable  gift. 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  75 

Tieck  and  Retzsch  were  not,  however,  the  only 
notable  persons  she  encountered  on  this  journey 
whose  names  naturally  occur  here,  as  furnishing 
the  most  pleasant  recollections  of  it.  Frankfort, 
which  she  describes  in  one  sentence  as  '  a  vision  of 
dirty  streets,  chilly  houses,  dull  shops,  dingy-looking 
Jews,  dripping  umbrellas,  luxurious  hotels,  and  exor- 
bitant charges,'  soon  became,  on  closer  inspection,  '  on 
the  outside  at  least,  fair,  substantial,  and  consistent.' 
And  it  is  easy  to  perceive  how  the  transformation 
was  effected  by  gradual  acquaintance  with  the  place  ; 
its  charities,  several  of  which  are  fully  and  sympathe- 
tically described  ;  its  theatre,  where  she  first  saw, 
among  others,  Mme.  Schroeder  Devrient,  for  whom 
she  conceived  a  great  admiration  ;  its  treasures  of 
art,  and  its  artists.  Among  her  sketches  of  these, 
none  is  so  interesting  as  that  of  Dannecker  and 
her  personal  meetings  with  him.  After  having  dis- 
cussed his  famous  '  Ariadne,'  she  gives  a  description 
of  his  less  well  known  statue  of  the  Redeemer. 

This  was  standing  in  his  workroom  when  we  paid  our 
first  visit  to  him.  He  told  me  what  I  had  often  heard, 
that  the  figure  had  visited  him  in  a  dream  there  several 
times,  and  the  good  old  man  firmly  believed  that  he  had 
been  divinely  inspired  and  predestined  to  the  work.  While 
the  visionary  image  was  fresh  in  his  imagination,  he  first 
executed  a  small  clay  model,  and  placed  it  before  a  child 
of  five  or  six  years  old  :  there  were  none  of  the  usual 
emblematical  accompaniments — no  cross,  no  crown  of 


76  ANNA  JAMESON. 

thorns  to  assist  the  fancy — nothing  but  the  simple  figure 
roughly  modelled  ;  yet  the  child  immediately  exclaimed, 
'  The  Redeemer ! '  and  Dannecker  was  confirmed  in  his 
design.  Gradually  the  completion  of  this  statue  became 
the  engrossing  idea  of  his  enthusiastic  mind  :  for  eight 
years  it  was  his  dream  by  night,  his  thought  by  day  ;  all 
things  else,  all  the  affairs  and  duties  of  life,  merged  into 
this.  He  told  me  that  he  frequently  felt  as  if  pursued, 
excited  by  some  strong  irresistible  power,  which  would  even 
visit  him  in  sleep  and  impel  him  to  rise  from  his  bed  and 
work.  He  explained  to  me  some  of  the  difficulties  he 
encountered,  and  which  he  was  persuaded  he  had  perfectly 
overcome  only  through  Divine  aid  and  the  constant  study 
of  the  Scriptures.  ...  I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  good  and  gifted  old  man,  as  leaning  on  the 
pedestal,  with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  his  long  grey  hair 
waving  round  his  face,  he  looked  up  at  his  work  with  a 
mixture  of  reverence  and  admiration,  saying  in  his  im- 
perfect and  scarcely  intelligible  French  r  '  Oui,  quand  on  a 
fait  comme  cela,  on  reste  sur  la  terre ! '  meaning,  I  suppose, 
that  this  statue  had  insured  his  immortality  on  earth.  He 
added :  '  They  ask  me  often  where  are  the  models  after 
which  I  worked,  and  I  answer  "  Here,  and  here" '  laying  his 
hand  first  on  his  head,  then  on  his  heart. 

Interesting,  however,  as  these  sketches  are,  they 
do  not  glow  with  the  same  warm  enthusiasm  which 
we  find  in  the  following  tribute  to  a  friend  who  was 
henceforward  to  be  one  of  the  dearest  friends  of  her 
life.  When  Mr.  Noel  met  Mrs.  Jameson  in  the  course 
of  that  summer  in  Weimar,  he  made  her  acquainted 
with  the  family  of  Goethe,  and  with  most  of  the 
distinguished  members  of  the  brilliant  society  then 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  77 

forming  the  little  court  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ernest 
Augustus.  Again  it  is  in  the  '  Visits  and  Sketches ' 
that  we  find  the  most  distinct  references  to  this 
visit  and  the  friends  she  then  made ;  especially  the 
one  friend,  the  always  dear,  admired,  and  beloved 
Ottilie,  in  whom  and  in  whose  concerns  she  took  the 
interest  of  a  sister,  almost  of  a  lover,  for  all  the  rest 
of  her  life.  Our  extract  begins  with  a  reference 
to  Mrs.  Austin's  '  Characteristics  of  Goethe.'  Mrs. 
Jameson  says  : 

I  came  upon  a  passage  which  sent  back  my  thoughts  to 
Weimar.  I  was  again  in  Goethe's  house ;  the  faces,  the 
voices  of  his  grandchildren  were  around  me  ;  the  room  in 
which  he  studied,  the  bed  in  which  he  slept,  the  old  chair 
in  which  he  died,  and,  above  all,  her  in  whose  arms  he  died, 
from  whose  lips  I  heard  the  detail  of  his  last  moments.  .  .  . 
I  thought  of  the  daughter-in-law  of  the  poet,  the  trusted 
friend,  the  constant  companion,  the  devoted  and  careful 
nurse  of  his  last  years. 

Going  on  to  account  for  the  influence  this  be- 
loved Ottilie  possessed  not  over,  but  in,  his  affec- 
tions, she  writes  : 

In  her  he  found  truly  eine  Natur,  a  piece  of  nature 
which  could  bear  even  his  microscopic  examination.  Con- 
ceive a  woman,  a  young,  accomplished,  enthusiastic  woman, 
who  had  qualities  to  attach,  talents  to  amuse,  and  capa- 
city to  appreciate  Goethe  ;  who  for  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  could  exist  in  daily,  hourly  communication  with 
that  gigantic  spirit,  yet  retain,  from  first  to  last,  the  most 
perfect  simplicity  of  character,  and  this  less  from  the 


78  ANNA  JAMESON. 

strength  than  from  the  purity  and  delicacy  of  the  original 
texture.  Those  oft-abused  words,  naive,  naivett,  were  more 
applicable  to  her  in  their  fullest  sense  than  to  any  other 
woman  I  ever  met  with.  .  .  .  Quick  in  perception  yet 
femininely  confiding,  uniting  a  sort  of  restless  vivacity  with 
an  indolent  gracefulness,  she  appeared  to  me  by  far  the 
most  poetical  and  genuine  being  of  my  own  sex  I  ever 
knew  in  highly  cultivated  life  —  one  to  whom  no  wrong 
could  teach  mistrust,  no  injury  bitterness ;  one  to  whom 
the  commonplace  realities,  the  vulgar  necessary  cares  of 
existence,  were  but  too  indifferent ;  who  was  in  reality  all 
that  other  women  try  to  appear,  and  betrayed  with  a  care- 
less independence  what  they  most  wish  to  conceal. 

The  attachment  that  sprang  up  rapidly  between 
Goethe's  fascinating  daughter-in-law  and  the  '  Hebe 
Anna'  never  thenceforth,  though  put  to  severest 
proof,  suffered  coldness  or  change.  They  were  dear 
friends  for  nearly  thirty  years,  maintaining,  through 
long  periods  of  separation,  a  faithful  correspondence 
and  renewing  personal  intercourse  whenever  and 
wherever  possible — in  Weimar  itself,  or  in  Vienna, 
Dresden,  Venice,  Rome,  wherever  Anna  could  give 
or  accept  a  rendezvous  with  Ottilie. 

To  return  to  the  time  when  this  acquaintance 
was  yet  in  its  infancy.  I  quote  next  from  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Noel,  dated  Weimar,  June  27,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — It  is  a  pleasure  I  cannot  deny  myself — 
no  less  than  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  you — to  write  these  few 
lines  from  Weimar.  I  must  thank  you  in  the  first  place 
for  the  kind  and  cordial  reception  I  have  met  with.  Your 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  79 

charming  friend  Mme.  de  Goethe  received  me  almost  with 
open  arms,  and  from  Dr.  Froriep  and  his  amiable  wife  and 
daughters  I  have  met  with  the  utmost  politeness  and  atten- 
tion. I  am  on  the  most  easy  terms  with  them  all,  and  feel 
as  if  I  had  known  them  months  instead  of  only  a  few  days. 
I  think  that  much  of  this  is  owing  to  you,  to  the  kind 
manner  in  which  you  have  spoken  of  me,  and  to  the  kind 
feeling  you  have  yourself  inspired  here,  which  has  ap- 
parently stamped  a  more  than  ordinary  value  upon  your 
approbation.  I  have  seen  as  much  of  Weimar,  of  its 
gardens,  environs,  library,  &c.,  as  could  possibly  be  accom- 
plished in  five  days,  and  I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  I  have 
been  pleased  with  all  I  have  seen.  After  this  exordium 
you  will  perhaps  start  to  hear  that  I  am  on  the  point  of 
leaving  Weimar,  although  I  have  not  yet  spent  a  week  here. 
The  fact  is  that  Mme.  de  Goethe  has  persuaded  me  to 
accompany  her  on  a  tour  to  Frankfort  and  the  Rhine. 
There  is  a  pleasant  party  arranged,  and  many  reasons  to 
determine  me.  The  opportunity  of  improving  my  acquaint- 
ance with  Mme.  de  Goethe  is  one,  and  my  sister's1  grati- 
fication is  another.  She  will  be  obliged  to  return  to  England 
before  I  do,  and  I  have  promised  to  show  her  the  Rhine. 
My  intention  is  to  return  to  Weimar  after  visiting  the  south 
of  Germany  and  Vienna. 

On  September  5  Mrs.  Jameson  wrote  to  her 
father  from  Frankfort,  and  mentioned  her  latest 
news  from  her  husband,  in  a  letter  giving  at  the 
same  time,  amid  all  the  warmth  and  affectionate 
effusiveness  of  her  friendships,  a  strange  glimpse 
into  the  melancholy  chill  and  frost  with  which  her 


1  Charlotte,  the  youngest  sister,  had  accompanied  her  to  Germany. 


8o  ANNA  JAMESON. 


warm  heart  was  bound  in  the  closest  relationship  of 
life. 

MY  DEAREST  FATHER,  -I  have  the  opportunity  of  send- 
ing a  letter  free  ;  I  hope  it  will  reach  you  safely  and  soon. 
I  found  at  Mannheim  a  letter  from  Canada,  as  usual  very 
well  written,  very  cold  and  very  vague.  I  do  not  think  he 
is  disappointed  in  his  office.  He  had  seen  the  Almas, 
who  are  flourishing ;  he  has  stood  godfather  to  Emily's 
youngest  son ;  his  books  and  papers  have  been  ship- 
wrecked, which  is  a  real  misfortune  and  no  small  expense. 
He  has  not  seen  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  He  finds  a  party 
ready  formed  against  him  ;  but  the  popular  opinion  is  for 
him,  being  considered  a  Whig  official.  No  Solicitor-General 
is  yet  appointed,  so  that  a  double  weight  of  duty  falls  upon 
him,  and  he  was  just  going  on  the  circuit  (of  more  than  a 
thousand  miles).  This  is  the  epitome  of  his  letter. 

Two  days  later  she  wrote  in  a  tender,  playful 
spirit,  to  the  dear  little  sister  Charlotte  who  had 
accompanied  her  abroad,  but  whose  return  home 
previously  to  herself  was  alluded  to  in  her  letter  to 
Mr.  Noel : 

MY  DEAR  CHARLOTTE, — I  have  not  your  letter  here 
with  me,  to  look  it  over  and  answer  it  at  full  length.  I 
can  but  thank  you  for  it,  dear,  and  tell  you  how  I  have 
missed  you  since  we  parted.  I  returned  to  Bonn  almost 
ill  with  fatigue  after  two  days  and  one  night  on  board  the 
steamboat.  Schlegel  became  very  amiable  before  I  left 
Bonn,  and  they  tell  me  it  was  a  complete  conquest.  Pity  I 
am  married  !  for  certainly  his  stars  and  his  ribbons  are 
very  becoming,  and  as  for  his  wig — I  think  he  only  wears 
one  in  imitation  of  his  Jupiter.  In  short,  he  talked  of 
Mme.  de  Stae'l  and  Bernadotte  and  Sanscrit,  till  I 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  81 

found  him  quite  captivating.  I  found,  on  my  return  to 
Bonn,  two  letters  from  Mme.  de  Goethe,  whom  I  had 
accused  wrongfully  of  not  writing.  I  am  now  staying  with 
her  for  a  few  days,  and  find  her  just  the  same  as  ever. 
You  should  have  heard  her  description  of  Lady  Morgan's 
visit,  and  of  the  latter's  addressing  her  in  French.1  '  Ach 
mein  Gott !  if  she  would  have  said  to  me "  OisJilamachree" 
I  would  have  embraced  her ! ' 

There  I  became  acquainted  with  the  celebrated  Schlegel, 
or,  I  should  rather  say,  M.  le  Chevalier  de  Schlegel,  for  I 
believe  his  titles  and  his  '  starry  honours '  are  not  indif- 
ferent to  him  ;  and  in  truth  he  wears  them  very  gracefully. 
I  was  rather  surprised  to  find  in  this  sublime  and  eloquent 
critic,  this  awful  scholar,  whose  comprehensive  mind  has 
grasped  the  whole  universe  of  art,  a  most  lively,  agreeable, 
social  being.  Of  the  judgments  passed  on  him  in  his  own 
country  I  know  little  and  understand  less  ;  I  am  not  deep 
in  German  literary  polemics.  To  me  he  was  the  author 
of  the  lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature,  and  the  translator 
of  Shakespeare,  and  moreover  all  that  was  amiable  and 
polite. 

For  my  own  part  I  would  rather  hear  him  talk  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  of  Mme.  de  Stael,  than  of  the 
Ramayana,  the  Bhagvat-Gita,  or  even  the  '  Eastern  Con- 
fut-yee.'  This,  of  course,  is  only  a  proof  of  my  own 
ignorance.  Conversation  may  be  compared  to  a  lyre  with 
seven  chords — philosophy,  art,  poetry,  politics,  love,  scandal, 
and  the  weather.  There  are  some  professors  who,  like 
Paganini,  'can  discourse  most  eloquent  music 'upon  one 


1  Mme.  de  Goethe  held  the  French  in  hereditary  hatred.  Her 
mother  had  been  one  of  the  ladies-in-waiting  of  Queen  Louise  of 
Pruss  ia. 


82  ANNA  JAMESON. 

string  only,  and  some  who  can  grasp  the  whole  instrument, 
and  with  a  master's  hand  sound  it  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom  of  its  compass.  Now,  Schlegel  is  one  of  the  latter  : 
he  can  thunder  in  the  bass  or  caper  in  the  treble  ;  he  can 
be  a  whole  concert  in  himself.  No  man  can  trifle  like 
him,  nor,  like  him,  blend  in  a  few  hours'  converse  the  critic, 
philologist,  poet,  philosopher,  and  man  of  the  world  ;  no 
man  narrates  more  gracefully,  or  more  happily  illustrates 
a  casual  thought.  He  told  me  many  interesting  things. 
'  Do  you  know,'  said  he,  one  morning,  as  I  was  looking  at 
a  beautiful  edition  of  '  Corinne,'  bound  in  red  morocco, 
the  gift  of  Mme.  de  Stael — '  do  you  know  that  I  figure 
in  that  book  ? '  I  asked  eagerly,  in  what  character  ?  He 
bade  me  guess.  I  guessed  playfully,  the  Comte  d'Erfeuil. 
'  No  !  no  ! '  said  he,  laughing  ;  '  I  am  immortalised  in  the 
Prince  Castel  Forte,  the  faithful,  humble,  unaspiring  friend 
of  Corinne.' 

From  Frankfort  Mrs.  Jameson  started,  shortly 
after  this  date,  on  the  tour  through  Southern  Ger- 
many to  which  she  had  long  been  looking  forward  ; 
and  from  Munich  she  writes  to  her  father  on 
October  15  : 

The  accounts  I  have  from  dear  Louisa  this  day  of 
your  better  health  and  spirits  and  constant  occupation 
are  a  great  happiness  to  me.  .  .  .  Munich  is  the  most 
beautiful  city  I  ever  saw  except  Florence  ;  but  I  have 
suffered  so  much  here  that  I  shall  leave  it  without  regret. 
Dr.  Martins  tells  me  that  almost  all  foreigners  do  suffer 
more  or  less.  The  cold  is  so  intense  at  times,  and  the  air 
so  oppressive,  that  I  long  to  fly  across  the  Alps.  In  three 
days  I  could  be  at  Milan,  in  four  at  Venice  !  The  very 
idea  of  sunning  myself  under  an  Italian  sky,  though  only 


AFTER  MARRIAGE.  83 


for  a  few  hours,  is  a  great  temptation.  But  all  my  pursuits 
and  plans  carry  me  to  the  North  once  more,  and  I  shall 
set  off  for  Dresden  in  a  few  days,  where  I  am  told  that  I 
shall  be  fcttfc,  that  is,  welcomed  like  a  princess.  You  can 
follow  me  on  the  map  from  Munich  to  Salzburg,  to  Linz, 
to  Prague,  to  Dresden.  God  bless  you  all !  I  must  stop. 

But  a  heavy  blow  was  already  pending ;  a  sud- 
den and  most  unlooked-for  sorrow  came  barely  one 
month  later,  that  put  a  stop  to  the  pleasant  German 
wanderings  and  summoned  the  loving  daughter 
home  to  watch  by  what  it  was  apprehended  might  be 
her  father's  death-bed.  In  the  month  of  November 
Mr.  Murphy  had  a  severe  paralytic  seizure,  and  in 
those  days  of  slow  communication  and  slow  travel- 
ling Mrs.  Jameson  was  in  an  agony  of  fear  lest  she 
should  arrive  too  late.  At  one  of  her  few  resting- 
places  during  that  sad  journey  home,  she  com- 
menced a  letter  to  Mr.  Noel,  then  in  Dresden,  in- 
tending to  finish  it  after  her  arrival  in  England  : 

For  (she  writes)  it  is  due  to  you,  my  kind  friend,  to 
let  you  know  as  soon  as  possible  of  my  safe  arrival,  and 
yet  I  am  haunted  by  the  fearful  idea  of  what  may  await 
me  there  to  prevent  my  writing  to  you.  God  knows,  I 
try  to  keep  my  hopes  in  equipoise  with  my  fears,  and  I 
have  hitherto  been  strong ;  but  I  begin  to  sink  a  little  and 
to  feel  weak.  I  wrote  you  a  few  lines  from  Weimar,  and  I 
remember  that  at  the  conclusion  I  told  you  that  Ottilie 
was  half  asleep  on  the  sofa,  and  as  she  answered  me  drow- 
sily, I  thought  she  was  so.  I  was  wrong  ;  when  I  went 
over  to  her,  I  found  her  weeping  quiet  silent  tears.  Dear 

G  2 


84  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Ottilie !  with  what  impatient  grief,  what  bitter  regret,  I 
parted  from  her !  O  Noel !  I  am  at  this  moment  very 
unhappy,  and  in  many  ways  unfortunate.  To  think  of  all 
I  leave — all  I  may  meet,  all  I  must  meet !  But  I  will  bear 
up,  for  both  thought  and  action  will  be  needed. 

Later  on  in  this  long  and  interesting  letter,  after 
messages  to  dear  mutual  friends  in  Dresden,  Mrs. 
Jameson  tells  her  correspondent  the  thrilling  tale 
told  her  the  previous  evening  by  a  young  girl, 
Betty  von  Ambos,  her  temporary  fellow-traveller. 
This  story  appears  at  the  close  of  the  introduction 
to  the  '  Visits  and  Sketches.'  A  few  lines  from 
London  conclude  the  letter  thus  : 

I  arrived  here  yesterday,  and  found  my  dear  father 
considerably  better.  His  speech  has  returned,  and  he  is 
beginning  to  recover  the  use  of  his  arm.  Such  a  gleam  of 
joy  came  over  his  pale  face  when  he  saw  me — my  mother 
tells  me  so  continually  how  he  has  been  pining  for  my  re- 
turn, and  how  my  presence  will  contribute  to  his  recovery — 
I  feel  so  convinced  that  I  have  done  right  in  coming,  that 
I  cannot  repent  it.  But  my  reason  tells  me  that  I  have 
done  no  real  and  effectual  good,  and  can  do  none ;  there- 
fore I  repent  it.  When  I  think  of  all  I  have  left,  and  all 
the  consequences  which  may  attend  my  precipitate  return, 
I  could  sit  down  and  wring  my  hands  ;  but  as  that  will  do 
no  good,  I  think  it  better  to  use  them  to  some  purpose. 
The  physicians  agree  that  my  father  is  recovering  as  well 
and  as  quickly  as  could  be  expected.  I  had  prepared 
myself  for  the  worst,  so  that  my  spirits  are  comparatively 
light. 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  85 

•f 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MIDDLE    LIFE. 

MR.  MURPHY  was  never  restored  to  health  after 
this  alarming  attack,  but  he  rallied  for  the  time  and 
lived  for  some  years  in  a  semi-paralysed  condition  ; 
so  that  after  the  alarm  the  family  soon  settled  into 
something  of  their  former  tranquillity. 

After  the  departure  of  her  husband,  in  1 833,  for 
his  distant  appointment,  Mrs.  Jameson  had  con- 
tinued to  make  the  house  of  her  sister  her  home, 
and  hither  she  returned  when  summoned  from  Ger- 
many. Still  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  in  so  many 
ways  adapted  to  shine  in  society,  she  soon  found  her- 
self with  more  engagements  on  her  hands  than  she 
cared  to  fulfil,  and  in  risk  of  having  her  time  frit- 
tered away  by  the  unprofitable  success  of  London 
drawing-rooms.  Her  father's  invalid  condition,  how- 
ever, occupied  a  great  deal  of  her  attention,  and  she 
had  already  begun  to  bestow  all  the  tenderness  of  a 
mother  upon  her  sister  Louisa's  eldest  child,  the 
only  one  of  the  second  generation  then  existing — a 
tenderness  most  enlightened  and  anxious,  which 


86  ANNA  JAMESON. 

ended  only  with  her  life.  Thus,  though  separated 
from  her  husband  and  childless  in  her  own  person, 
she  lived  amid  the  fondest  family  ties,  and  had  all 
her  affections  in  exercise  to  keep  in  check  those 
allurements  of  society  which,  seductive  as  they  are, 
were  never  much  to  her  mind.  The  first  literary 
work  which  she  seems  to  have  undertaken  after  her 
return  to  England  was  the  collecting  and  revising 
of  a  series  of  essays  on  various  subjects  which  had 
already  been  published,  but  which  Messrs.  Saunders 
&  Ottley  wished  to  republish  in  a  more  durable 
form.  These  extended  to  four  volumes,  brought 
out,  under  the  title  of  '  Visits  and  Sketches,'  in 
the  year  1834,  and  from  which  I  have  largely 
quoted  in  the  previous  chapter.  The  topics  were 
of  the  most  varied  kind,  ranging  from  descriptive 
sketches  of  German  society  and  biographies  of  dis- 
tinguished Germans — such  as  those  from  which 
extracts  have  been  given — to  a  sketch  of  the 
families  of  Hardwick  and  Stanhope  in  commemo- 
ration of  visits  paid  to  the  chief  residences  of  either 
family ;  and,  again,  to  a  dissertation  upon  the 
genius  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  Included  among  these 
was  a  new  edition  of  the  '  Diary  of  an  Ennuyde! 
It  is  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  popularity  Mrs. 
Jameson's  works  had  attained,  that  her  publishers 
should  have  suggested  such  a  collection  so  early  in 
her  literary  career.  Mrs.  Jameson  herself  explains 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  87 


in  her  preface  that  though  she  had  '  other  and  par- 
ticular objects  in  view  which  still  keep  full  possession 
of  my  mind,  and  which  have  been  suspended, 
not  without  reluctance,  in  order  to  prepare  these 
volumes  for  the  press,'  she  had  found,  on  her  re- 
turn to  England  after  her  recent  continental  ex- 
pedition, '  that  many  particulars  which  had  excited 
my  interest  with  regard  to  the  relative  state  of  art 
and  social  existence '  (in  Germany)  '  appeared  new 
to  those  with  whom  I  conversed ; '  which  was  her 
chief  inducement  'to  throw  into  form  the  few 
simple  memoranda  I  had  made  on  the  spot.'  These 
memoranda,  expanded  into  sketches  descriptive  and 
biographic,  occupied  the  first  two  volumes  of  the 
collection  ;  and  as  comparatively  little  was  known 
of  Germany  at  that  period,  when  none  of  the 
modern  facilities  of  travel  existed,  and  when  tra- 
vellers were  comparatively  few,  and  these  almost 
exclusively  of  the  wealthy  classes — it  vyill  be  under- 
stood how  interesting  to  many  were  the  graphic  and 
refined  yet  simple  descriptions  of  German  life  from 
many  different  points  of  view — its  picture  galleries, 
its  courts,  its  quiet  homes,  its  artists  and  theatres, 
all  so  unexplored  and  little  understood  by  insular 
readers.  About  the  same  time  Mr.  Carlyle  was 
awakening  the  interest  of  the  reading  world  in 
German  literature,  and  setting  up  that  Goethe  wor- 
ship of  which  he  has  been  the  first  and  greatest 


88  ANNA  JAMESON. 


preacher.  What  these  pioneers  have  done  cannot 
be  repeated.  '  Faust '  has  been  reproduced  for  us  in 
a  hundred  translations,  and  no  traveller  now  would 
venture  to  dwell,  as  Mrs.  Jameson  does,  upon  his 
feelings  in  the  presence  of  the  Madonna  of  San 
Sisto,  which  all  his  acquaintances  have  seen  as  well 
as  himself,  and  of  which  we  have  all  heard  the  divine 
pre-eminence  contemptuously  disparaged.  But  in 
1834  things  were  very  different,  and  Mrs.  Jameson's 
modest  book  opened  the  breadth  of  Germany  and 
its  yet  untrodden  ways  to  many  readers  as  unable 
to  go  thither  in  their  own  persons  as  they  were  un- 
prepared to  judge  and  justly  estimate  the  treasures 
of  art  to  be  set  before  them  there.  The  author 
expresses  in  her  preface  her  *  earnest  hope  that  what 
has  been  written  in  perfect  simplicity  of  heart  may 
be  perused,  both  by  my  English  and  German 
friends — particularly  the  artists — with  indulgence  ; 
that  those  who  read  and  doubt  may  be  awakened 
to  enquiry,  and  those  who  read  and  believe  may  be 
led  to  reflection  ;  and  that  those  who  differ  from 
and  those  who  agree  with  the  writer  may  both  find 
some  interest  and  amusement  in  the  literal  truth  of 
the  facts  and  impressions  which  she  has  ventured  to 
record.' 

No  one  who  reads  these  sketches  will  doubt 
that  she  possessed  a  degree  of  knowledge  of  the 
country  through  which  she  travelled,  and  its  people, 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  89 


much  surpassing  anything  which  was  usual  then,  or  is 
usual  now,  with  all  our  external  advantages,  and  was 
thus  qualified  to  guide  her  special  audience  through 
many  an  interesting  scene.  There  will  also  be 
found  in  these  modest  volumes  suggestions  and 
anticipations  of  literary  subjects  which  have  since 
been  carried  out  in  works  that  have  acquired  lasting 
fame.  There  is  the  story  of  the  '  Niebelungen  Lied,' 
before  Carlyle  had  expounded  it  to  the  English 
world ;  and  of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  before 
Montalembert  brought  out  all  the  more  exquisite 
lights  of  history  to  transform  that  legend ;  besides 
many  indications  of  the  author's  own  gradually  de- 
veloping taste,  and  the  unconscious  currents  of  in- 
fluence which  led  her  to  the  chief  works  of  her  life. 

This  republication,  however,  seems  to  have  been 
the  only  work  in  which  she  was  engaged  at  the 
time,  occupied  as  she  was  with  domestic  and  with 
social  engagements.  That  she  was  not  satisfied 
with  this  partial  inactivity  is  very  apparent  from  her 
letter  to  Mr.  Noel,  dated  from  London,  January  24, 
1834: 

For  myself  I  am  leading  that  most  abominable  life — a 
life  of  laborious  dissipation.  I  have  suffered  myself  to  be 
entangled  in  the  machinery  of  society,  and  am  whirled 
round  as  if  I  were  bound  upon  the  wheel  of  a  steam- 
engine.  But  it  shall  not  last !  Shall  I  whisper  something 
to  you  ?  I  indulge  a  hope  of  revisiting  Germany  in  the 
spring.  It  depends  on  so  many  contingencies  that  I  scarcely 


90  ANNA  JAMESON. 

dare  permit  myself  to  dwell  upon  it.  But  if  my  letters 
from  Canada  are  definitive,  if  I  can  finish  the  printing  of 
my  book,  if  I  can  so  arrange  my  money  matters  as  to  per- 
form what  is  right  to  others  and  spare  something  for 
selfishness,  then  I  shall  spread  my  wings  some  time  in 
April  or  May,  and  you  will  see  me  alight  on  a  spring 
morning  among  my  dear  German  friends,  like  a  bird  es- 
caped from  its  cage,  with  its  plumage  ruffled  and  torn  with 
beating  against  the  wires.  I  never  liked  London,  and 
now  I  hate  it  absolutely  ;  this  kind  of  life  is  not  made  for 
me,  and  solitude  were  not  much  better.  If  I  do  make  my 
escape,  I  think  I  will  go  to  Weimar  for  a  month  or  six 
weeks  and  study  German  very  very  hard,  and  spend  part 
of  my  time  with  dear  Ottilie  ;  thence  I  will  go  to  Dresden 
and  to  Vienna,  but  as  yet  all  this  is  a  mere  dream. 

Your  description  of  Mme.  Schroeder  Devrient's  dinner- 
party is  admirable.  Do  not  lose  sight  of  her,  and,  without 
absolutely  playing  the  moraliser  and  adviser,  do  what  you 
can  to  elevate  and  steady  her  mind.  She  wants  self-respect, 
and  this  is  a  dangerous  deficiency  where  there  is  such  an 
excitable  temperament.  I  have  prepared  one  or  two  good 
friends  for  her  if  she  comes  here  ;  Mrs.  Austin  is  one.  This 
very  remarkable  woman  has  one  of  the  largest  and  Jiealthiest 
minds  I  ever  met  with  in  a  person  of  my  own  sex  ;  she  is 
now  translating  Victor  Cousin's  reports  on  the  system  of 
public  education  in  Prussia,  and  this  she  is  doing  from 
a  pure  feeling  of  duty,  a  real  enthusiasm  in  the  cause. 

The  lady  referred  to  was  one  to  whom  Mrs. 
Jameson  had  dedicated  several  pages  in  the  volumes 
above  mentioned,  describing  her  artistic  gifts  and 
accomplishments  with  that  invariable  sympathy  with 
genius  in  all  its  forms  which  was  one  of  her  chief 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  91 


characteristics.  '  Like  other  gifted  women  who  are 
blessed  or  cursed  with  a  most  irritable  nervous 
system,'  she  says,  '  Devrient  is  a  good  deal  under 
the  influence  of  feeling  and  temper,  and  in  the  per- 
formance of  her  favourite  parts  is  subject  to  in- 
equalities which  are  not  caprices,  but  arise  from  an 
exuberance  of  soul  and  power,  and  only  render  her 
performances  more  interesting.'  And  she  adds,  in 
speaking  of  a  special  performance — that  of  Romeo 
in  Bellini's  opera — '  There  was  a  flush  of  poetry  and 
passion,  a  heart-breaking  struggle  of  love  and  life 
against  an  overwhelming  destiny,  which  thrilled  me. 
Never  did  I  hear  anyone  sing  so  completely  from 
her  own  soul  as  this  astonishing  creature ;  in  certain 
tones  and  passages  her  voice  issued  from  the  depths 
of  her  bosom,  as  if  steeped  in  tears.  .  .  .  I  was  not 
surprised  to  learn  that  Mme.  Devrient  is  generally 
ill  after  her  performance,  and  unable  to  sing  in  this 
part  more  than  once  or  twice  a  week.' 

A  fortnight  after  the  letter  above  quoted,  Mr. 
Noel  received  the  following  : 

My  poor  father  is  worse  again.  He  was  bled  yester- 
day, and  I  greatly  fear  for  him.  I  have  other  and  peculiar 
sources  of  grief,  besides  the  uneasiness  I  feel  about  my 
mother  and  sisters.  Outwardly,  I  stand  in  the  world  an 
enviable  being,  so  at  least  everyone  tells  me ;  inwardly,  it 
is  a  hard  struggle.  Of  how  many  women  might  the  his- 
tory be  comprised  in  those  few  words — 'she  lived,  suf- 
fered, and  was  buried '  ! 


92  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  do  not  like  the  book  which  my  publishers,  rather 
than  myself,  will  give  to  the  world — this  collection  of  all 
sorts  of  fugitive  things  never  owned,  and  the  Emmy  fa  in- 
cluded. I  have  also  written  some  slight  sketches  of  the 
comparative  state  of  art  in  England  and  Germany.  Had 
I  remained  a  month  longer  in  Dresden,  I  would  have  made 
this  better ;  but  I  have  done  what  I  could — thrown  out  a 
few  thoughts  which  others  must  take  up  and  improve. 
This  book,  about  which  I  care  little,  will  subject  me  more 
than  any  former  one  to  angry  criticism,  because  I  see  I 
have  just  attained  that  point  of  reputation  which,  by 
giving  a  certain  weight  to  my  opinions,  will  provoke  con- 
tradiction. So  be  it!  However,  I  must  tell  you  of  one 
thing  which  consoles  me.  The  other  day  I  had  a  pre- 
sent of  books  and  a  letter  from  an  unknown  person  in 
America,  telling  me  that  they  were  printing  the  second 
American  edition  of  my  writings. 

Here  is  a  chapter  of  egotism,  my  dear  Noel ;  and  how 
little  I  feel  myself,  compared  to  Harriet  Martineau  and 
Mrs.  Austin! 

The  chapter  of  egotism,  innocent  as  it  is,  is  very 
soon,  however,  balanced  by  another  letter,  which 
reveals  to  us  one  of  those  efforts  of  practical 
help  and  kindness  into  which,  when  she  had  the 
opportunity,  she  threw  herself  with  her  whole  soul. 
The  reader  will  not  have  forgotten  her  description, 
given  in  the  previous  chapter,  of  Moritz  Retzsch,  the 
'  extraordinary  genius  '  whose  outline  illustrations  of 
Goethe,  Schiller,  Biirger,  Shakespeare,  &c.,  had 
captivated  all  Germany  by  their  wonderful  fresh- 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  93 


ness,  beauty,  and  ideal  grace.  Mrs.  Jameson's 
warm  admiration  and  sympathy  had  not  been  con- 
tent with  a  mere  suggestion  that  these  beautiful 
sketches  should  not  be  lost  to  the  English  public. 
She  undertook  to  manage  for  Retzsch  the  publication 
in  England,  finding  the  publisher,  translating  the 
text,  and  herself  adding  an  introduction  to  the 
English  reader,  who  had  already  been  prepared  by 
her  interesting  sketch  of  the  artist  to  give  this 
new  volume  a  favourable  reception. 

MY  DEAR  NOEL, — This  is  post-day,  and  late.  I  have 
but  a  few  minutes  to  write,  but  I  think  better  not  to  delay 
a  moment  the  acknowledgment  of  Retzsch's  copper-plates, 
which  arrived  yesterday.  Saunders  &  Ottley  have  by 
this  day's  post  sent  off  /o/.,  which  will  be  paid  to  Morris 
Retzsch  on  application  to  Bassange  &  Co.,  bankers  in 
Dresden.  I  hope  he  will  be  pleased.  The  certainty  of 
punctual  pay  and  most  honourable  treatment  must  surely 
be  something  in  his  estimation.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to 
thank  him  for  the  beautiful  little  head  he  has  sent  me  ? — 
it  is  charming.  I  am  now  going  to  set  to  work  to  trans- 
late and  explain,  and  do  my  best  to  set  forth  Retzsch's 
merits  most  worthily,  and  Saunders  &  Ottley  intend  to 
spare  no  expense  in  getting  up  the  work  in  the  most 
elegant  fashion. 

You  must  forgive  me,  dear  Noel,  these  few  hurried 
lines.  When  I  tell  you  that  the  arrangement  of  my  father's 
affairs,  and  in  some  measure  the  providing  for  my  poor 
mother  and  my  good  sisters,  has  fallen  to  my  lot ;  and  that 
in  the  meantime,  while  my  father  has  been  helpless,  my 
mother  has  been  dangerously  ill  ;  and  that  it  was  necessary, 


94  ANNA  JAMESON. 


in  the  midst  of  all  this,  to  hurry  forward  the  printing  of 
my  poor  little  book,  which  will  come  into  the  world  like  a 
premature  child,  if  not  still-born—then  you  can  believe 
that  for  seven  weeks  I  have  never  been  in  bed  before 
three  or  four  in  the  morning,  and  am  almost  worn  out. 

Early  in  this  year  Mr.  Noel  had  made  Mrs. 
Jameson  acquainted  with  his  cousin,  Lady  Byron, 
than  whom  perhaps  no  woman  has  been  more  dis- 
cussed in  the  world,  with  less  satisfaction  to  her 
critics.  Mrs.  Jameson's  impression  of  her  seems  to 
have  been  at  first  more  in  accordance  with  the 
opinion  entertained  by  the  friends  of  the  poet- hus- 
band, than  by  the  many  enthusiasts  who  bestowed 
upon  Lady  Byron's  veiled  but  powerful  character, 
and  many  and  liberal  benevolences,  a  kind  of  wor- 
ship. When  asked,  after  their  first  interview,  what 
was  the  chief  impression  her  new  acquaintance  had 
made  upon  her,  Mrs.  Jameson  replied  at  once,  '  im- 
placability.' This  impression,  however,  must  have 
been  merely  temporary,  for  there  soon  arose  a  friend- 
ship exceptionally  warm  and  intimate  between  these 
two  ladies,  which  for  many  years  pervaded  the  lives 
of  both,  making  them  of  one  heart  and  mind,  almost 
of  one  being,  so  close,  confidential,  and  unbroken  was 
their  intercourse.  The  fact  that  it  came  at  length 
to  a  disastrous  conclusion  after  nearly  twenty  years' 
uninterrupted  affection  is  one  of  the  strangest  of  cala- 
mities, and  one  of  which  I  can  offer  only  the  briefest 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  95 


and  most  unsatisfactory  explanation.  But  it  is  not 
necessary  to  forestall  the  moment  of  that  melancholy 
breach.  For  the  best  part  of  a  lifetime  this  friend- 
ship was  one  of  the  greatest  consolations  and  also 
occupations  of  my  aunt's  existence.  The  acquaint- 
ance made  through  Lady  Byron  with  the  then  still 
famed  Joanna  Baillie  and  her  sister  Agnes,  ripened 
into  a  friendship  that  continued  up  to  the  period  of  the 
death  of  the  venerable  sisters.  On  her  part,  about  this 
time  Mrs.  Jameson  brought  Lady  Byron  acquainted 
with  one  for  whom  she  herself  always  professed 
the  warmest  esteem  and  admiration.  She  introduced 
to  her  Harriet  Martineau.  A  slight  allusion  to  this 
occurs  in  a  letter  dated  London,  June  20  : 

How   I    wish  I   could   raise  the  mind   of  that   sweet 
— ,  prostrated  as  it  now  is,  to  look  fonvard  for  herself 


and  her  fine  children,  particularly  little  —  - !'  If  God  had 
but  given  me  children,  I  think  I  could  have  been  blest. 
Well,  I  must  spare  you  all  this  egotism  ;  but  as  my  thoughts 
flow  on,  so  does  my  pen.  I  introduced  Harriet  Martineau 

to  Lady  Byron  not  long  ago.     As  to  Miss  M ,  I  have 

seen  her  several  times,  but  we  are  not  destined  to  draw 
nearer,  and  if  she  be  your  adversary,  she  is  mine  very  surely. 
I  am  going  on  Tuesday  to  spend  the  day  at  the  Hanwell 
Asylum,  and  shall  see  Lady  Byron  on  my  way.1  Charles 
Vogel,  the  painter  at  Dresden,  is  here  ;  he  spent  an  evening 
with  me.  I  had  Harriet  Martineau,  Mrs.  Opie,  and  Mrs. 
Austin,  Hayward  the  famous  German  scholar,  Briggs, 


1  At  Lady  Byron's  residence  of  Fordhook,  between  Acton  and 
Ealing. 


96  ANNA  JAMESON. 

R.A.,  and  Eastlake,  R.A. — two  of  our  best  painters — and 
an  American,  the  most  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Channing. 

I  have  a  letter  from  Retzsch,  which,  if  I  did  not  make 
allowance  for  the  morbid  tendencies  of  his  character,  would 
give  me  much  pain.  He  is  discontented  and  disappointed  ; 
he  does  not  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  money,  but 
leaves  me  to  infer  that  he  has  had  it  ;  at  the  same  time  I 
should  not  have  supposed  so  but  for  your  letter.  He 
seems  to  take  the  publication  of  his  '  Fancies  '  as  an  inflic- 
tion from  heaven,  which  he  must  bear  with  resignation  ; 
hopes  nothing  that  is  good,  anticipates  all  that  is  dismal ; 
and  the  very  expression  of  his  gratitude  to  me  is  so  dismal, 
I  could  smile  if  I  were  not  so  sorry  for  him.  I  shall  go  on 
just  as  if  he  had  not  written.  Perhaps  he  will  be  angry 
that  my  preface  is  not  an  elaborate  panegyric  on  him, 
but  that  would  have  been  bad  taste  in  my  capacity  as 
editor. 

This  is  rather  a  painful  commentary  upon  Mrs. 
Jameson's  previous  sketch  of  Retzsch  and  her  en- 
thusiasm for  him  and  efforts  for  his  success  ;  but 
gratitude  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  sentiments,  and 
this  is  not  a  solitary  instance  of  its  failure. 

The  hope  of  returning  to  Germany,  though  not 
carried  out,  as  she  had  desired,  in  the  spring  of  this 
year  of  1834,  came  to  fruition  later.  Mrs.  Jameson 
writes,  still  in  June,  to  Mr.  Noel : 

I  cannot  describe  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  with  what 
feelings  I  think  of  escaping  from  London.  The  whole 
period  since  my  return  has  been  one  of  labour,  distasteful 
dissipation,  and  extreme  sorrow.  My  poor  father,  though 
in  no  danger  now,  is  a  miserable  wreck  ;  all  I  could  do  for 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  97 


him  in  his  present  state  is  done,  his  affairs  arranged,  and 
my  mother's  comfort  provided  for.  I  have  nursed  my  poor 
Louisa  through  her  confinement ;  it  was  a  horrid  period  of 
danger  and  agony,  and  she  has  not  yet  recovered  the  loss 
of  her  child.  How  glad  I  shall  be  to  leave  her  comfort- 
ably by  the  sea-coast  with  her  husband  and  little  girl,  and 
fly  off  to  forget  for  a  few  months  "all  this  pain,  and  get 
strength  and  cheerfulness  to  bear  me  through  my  future  ! 
That  future!  Never  mind.  We  will  have  a  ramble  to- 
gether, talk  philosophy,  enjoy  the  summer  air  and  the 
various  face  of  ever  lovely  Nature — and  then  to  work 
again. 

About  a  month  from  the  date  of  this  letter,  Mrs. 
Jameson  was  able  to  carry  out  her  cherished  inten- 
tion, and  set  out  for  Germany  with  the  happiest 
anticipations  of  a  period  of  rest  and  refreshment 
among  her  many  friends. 

This  interval  of  rest,  however,  though  full  of 
variety  and  pleasure,  was  soon  disturbed  by  very  evi- 
dent symptoms  of  a  crisis  in  her  personal  affairs. 
Her  anxiety  about  the  future  is  apparent  in  the  letter 
just  quoted,  and  by  this  time  intimations  began  to 
arrive  from  Canada,  that  Mr.  Jameson  was  disposed 
to  insist  upon  the  fulfilment  of  his  wife's  promise  to 
join  him,  and  all  her  plans  were  thus  thrown  again 
into  confusion.  This  seems  a  harsh  manner  of  an- 
nouncing a  husband's  very  natural  desire  to  have  his 
wife  with  him  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  there  had  been 
no  real  union  between  them  for  any  but  a  very  short 

H 


98  NNA  JAMESON. 

period,  and  after  so  much  separation  the  bond  that 
held  them  to  each  other  had  become  irksome  per- 
haps to  both,  certainly  to  the  wife,  whose  patience 
had  been  worn  out  by  long  waiting  and  many  disap- 
pointments. Mr.  Jameson  seems  to  have  been  one  of 
those  strangely  constituted  persons  to  whom  absence 
is  always  necessary  to  reawaken  affection,  and  who 
prize  what  they  are  not  in  possession  of,  and  habitually 
slight  and  neglect  what  they  have.  At  a  distance 
he  was  the  most  devoted  and  admiring  of  husbands, 
but  in  the  privacy  of  the  domestic  circle,  cold,  self- 
absorbed,  and  unsympathetic,  and  his  most  affec 
tionate  phrases  evidently  inspired  no  confidence  in  the 
bosom  of  the  woman  who  had  already  believed  and 
trusted  and  been  disappointed  over  and  over  again. 

I  have  no  desire  to  dwell  in  ungracious  detail 
upon  the  incompatibility  which  is  so  evident,  which 
does  not  appear  to  have  involved  any  moral  wrong, 
but  only  a  something  persistently  out  of  tune,  a  fun- 
damental discord  which  was  not  to  be  set  right. 
Such  cases  are  not  uncommon  in  ordinary  life,  and 
often  produce  nothing  worse  (if  worse  can  be)  than 
a  succession  of  family  jars,  and  a  chilled  and  un- 
happy mingling  of  two  existences  between  whom 
there  is  little  sympathy.  Mrs.  Jameson's  independent 
condition,  the  warm  friends  she  had  on  all  sides,  and 
the  high  estimation  in  which  she  was  universally 
held,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  her  mar- 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  99 


riage  was  childless,  and  the  strongest  of  all  secondary 
bonds  non-existent,  had  no  doubt  a  certain  effect 
upon  her  mind,  and  made  her  all  the  less  willing  to 
revive  an  experiment  which  had  already  failed  more 
than  once.  She  did  not  see  it  to  be  her  duty  to  ex- 
patriate herself,  to  give  up  all  her  occupations,  in 
which  she  was  conscious  of  doing  worthy  work  and 
being  of  service  to  her  generation — all  her  friends, 
her  own  family  of  whom  she  was  the  pride  and 
delight,  to  whom  she  was  often  the  bread-winner, 
always  the  consoler — in  order  to  share  the  life  of  a 
cold  and  self-sufficing  man,  to  whose  happiness  she 
never  seemed  to  be  necessary  except  when  the 
Atlantic  flowed  between.  She  did  not  think  it  her 
duty — but  once  more  she  yielded  in  order  to  make 
sure  that  no  effort  of  hers  had  been  wanting  to  make 
reunion  practicable.  And  perhaps  some  gleam  of 
better  hope  might  flash  across  her  mind  by  times 
on  the  receipt  of  such  letters  as  the  following,  dated 
Toronto,  October  30,  1834.  Words  such  as  those 
with  which  it  concludes,  if  believed  in  by  the  receiver, 
would  seem  almost  irresistibly  persuasive  : 

I  have  not  yet  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  your  last 
letter,  dated  4th  July,  which  duly  arrived.  The  tone  is 
more  kind  and  cheering  than  some  of  its  predecessors.  I 
hope  you  have  received  the  money  safe.  I  shall  send  the 
second  part  of  the  bill  on  London  to  Henry,  perhaps 
by  this  packet.  Dearest  Anna,  let  me  look  forward  to  our 
meeting  with  hope.  Let  me  not  lose  the  privilege  of 

H  2 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


loving  you,  and  the  hope  of  being  loved  by  you.  Let  me 
come  to  my  solitary  home  with  the  prospect  that  my  daily 
labours  shall,  before  any  very  lengthened  day  of  trial,  be 
rewarded  by  your  presence  and  your  most  precious  en- 
dearments. I  have  no  single  hope  that  does  not  depend 
on  this  one.  Do  not  school  your  heart  against  me,  and  I 
will  compel  you  to  love  me.  I  have  been  fencing  in  my 
nice  little  piece  of  ground  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  where 
I  am  promising  myself  the  happiness  of  building  you  a 
pretty  little  villa  after  your  own  taste.  I  have  set  a  man 
to  plant  some  trees  and  shrubs  also,  for  the  place  was  quite 
denuded,  though  by  far  the  finest  situation  in  the  town. 
I  have  ground  enough  for  a  pretty  extensive  garden,  nearly 
three  acres. 

In  a  letter  written  the  following  spring,  May  1835, 
Mr.  Jameson  complains  that  he  has  not  heard  from 
his  wife  for  months — not  since  a  letter  reached  him 
dated  from  Berlin  in  September,  and  received  by  him 
shortly  before  Christmas. 

A  feast  followed  by  a  long,  long  Lent  (he  writes), 
speaking  of  your  intention  to  proceed  to  Vienna  for  the 
winter,  and  probable  return  to  England  in  the  spring. 
Where  you  have  since  been,  or  where  you  now  are,  I  know 
not,  but  I  hope  in  England.  Your  letters,  even  more  than 
usually  delightful,  glitter  throughout  with  such  bright 
names  and  proof  of  your  high  fame  among  your  German 
admirers,  that  I  sometimes  despond  for  your  poor  North 
American  savage.  .  .  .  My  hopes  of  receiving  you  in  a 
house  of  your  own  have  been  for  the  present  thwarted — I 
have  not  the  requisite  money.  But  I  have  the  ground, 
which  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  driven  to  sacrifice,  because  I 
should  never  meet  with  so  pleasant  a  situation  ;  and  before 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  101 


long  I  trust  still  to  have  a  nice  cottage,  at  all  events,  upon 
it.  And  then  what  portion  of  happiness  we  enjoy  in  it 
depends  upon  you,  dearest  Anna  ;  and  I  think  you  will  not 
wilfully  shut  it  out  of  doors,  merely  because  it  may  be  a 
better  fate  than  I  deserve.  I  have  been  planting  trees,  and, 
as  I  told  you,  potatoes,  on  a  princely  scale  ;  and  often,  when 
I  can  steal  an  hour,  I  go  and  exercise  myself  with  my  spade 
and  pruning-knife,  and  then  I  feed  my  fancy  with  the  idea 
that  you  will,  before  the  leaves  disappear,  be  walking  there 
by  my  side. 

I  am,  however,  anticipating  the  course  of  events. 
While  these  letters  were  being  addressed  to  her  from 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  she  was  cheating  her 
suspense  and  trying  to  drown  her  fears  of  the  future 
among  her  German  friends.  Here  is  a  record  of  one 
lovely  excursion  apparently  taken  from  mere  need 
of  repose  and  peace  after  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
Vienna,  where  she  had  been  for  many  months.  She 
found  the  quiet  she  sought  in  a  sort  of  hermit  exist- 
ence, in  a  lone  spot  on  the  Gmiindensee  in  Upper 
Salzburg.  Hence  she  writes  in  a  merrier  mood 
than  she  had  been  wont  to  do  to  her  faithful  knight, 
Robert  Noel,  on  August  16  : 

Next  day  (Saturday)  I  took  a  boat  to  Frauenkirchen — • 
found  a  pretty  little  deserted  cottage  with  two  habitable 
rooms  ;  got  them  furnished  very  tolerably  from  the  inn, 
and  so — to  shorten  my  story — here  I  am,  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  lake,  with  a  little  garden,  and  a  little  summer-house 
therein,  and  a  clean  bed,  and  a  little  nook  where  I  bathe 
every  morning — plunge  in,  frighten  all  the  fishes,  and 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


scramble  out  again,  more  frightened  myself  ;  with  the  little 
antique  chapel  of  St.  John  perched  on  a  hill  above  me,  and 
the  glorious  mountains  all  around  me,  and  peace,  and 
security,  and  forgetfulness.  Ought  I  not  to  be  happy  ? 

If  you  ask  me  what  I  do,  I  do  nothing  but  sit  on  rocks 
and  glide  about  in  a  boat,  and  make  sketches,  i.e.  scratches, 
upon  any  scrap  of  paper  I  pick  up  ;  for,  like  a  wiseacre,  I 
.sent  the  drawing  materials  I  had  purchased  to  Weimar, 
not  knowing  where  to  stow  them.  Otherwise  I  might  have 
practised  drawing  to  some  purpose,  for  these  majestic 
forms  would  inspire  the  most  stupid.  The  impossibility  of 
doing  anything  to  please  myself,  however,  often  stops  my 
hand,  and  I  sit  sometimes  for  hours  on  a  rock  or  in  a  boat, 
motionless,  in  indolent  and  deep-felt  enjoyment  of  this 
beauty  and  magnificence.  I  wish  you  were  here.  You 
might  be  at  Gmiinden,  at  the  little  inn  there,  and  we 
might  have  had  some  pleasures  together.  Fate  owed  it  to 
us,  and  I  did  half  hope  it  —  but  now  it  is  too  late. 

When  that  dear  good  Countess  Z  -  heard  I  was 
expected  at  Gmiinden,  she  wrote  immediately  to  B  —  -  to 
desire  he  would  receive  me,  and  do  for  me  all  that  was 
possible,  and  desired  I  would  write  all  my  plans  about 
Ischl,  &c.  I  wrote  to  thank  her,  to  decline  Ischl  alto- 
gether ;  but,  as  she  had  offered  to  come  over  and  see  me,  I 
said  I  would  row  over  to  Ebensee  and  meet  her.  But  two 
days  after  my  arrival  she  and  Countess  S  -  came  over 
early.  I  had  just  bathed,  and  in  a  very  complete,  or,  as 
they  call  it  here,  most  profonde  undress,  was  sitting  among 
the  rocks,  when  B  --  came  up,  scrambling  and  wiping 
his  forehead,  to  announce  my  visitors  !  I  had  the  key  of 
my  little  abode,  so  they  had  stationed  themselves  in  the 
summer-house  ;  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  countenance 
of  the  Z  --  as  she  stood  upon  the  steps  and  extended  her 
arms  ;  nor  that  of  the  good-natured  Countess  S  -  ,  who 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  103 


was  looking  over  her  shoulder,  both  quite  radiant  with 
pleasure  and  every  kindly  feeling.  They  were  exceed- 
ingly amused  at  my  little  arrangements  and  comical  make- 
shifts. 

Mrs.  Jameson  left  the  little  haven  by  the  Gmiin- 
densee,  made  her  tour  in  Upper  Germany,  and 
returned  to  Weimar  before  Christmas.  The  fatigue, 
bodily  and  mental,  undergone  in  the  interim  seems 
again  to  have  seriously  affected  her  health.  She 
writes  on  January  1 1, 1836,  the  following  vivid  account 
of  her  introduction  to  Alexander  v.  Humboldt : 

The  first  time  I  dined  at  Court  after  my  illness,  I  met 
Humboldt,  the  celebrated  traveller.  He  was  here  for  two 
days  only,  and  spent  the  greatest  part  of  both  evenings 
with  Ottilie.  He  struck  me,  amused  me,  interested  me, 
and  has  half  turned  my  head.  Luckily  he  has  a  passion 
for  conversation,  and  talks  almost  incessantly,  but  so  ad- 
mirably well  that  it  is  a  thing  for  which  to  thank  Heaven 
(I  mean  his  talking  mania).  He  knows  everything  and 
everybody,  and  has  seen  all  countries  and  all  climes  from 
pole  to  pole.  He  speaks  all  modern  languages,  is  con- 
versant with  all  literature,  and  nothing  gave  me  such  an 
idea  of  the  universality  of  his  knowledge  as  the  discovery 
that  he  knew  my  name  and  all  I  had  written.  Poor  little 
me !  I  felt,  while  I  looked  at  him,  quite  lost — a  molehill 
beside  the  Andes.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  I  do  not 
agree  with  his  speculations  and  theories,  as  far  as  I  could 
make  them  out ;  but  for  facts  and  characters  he  was  de- 
lightful— a  walking  encyclopaedia,  a  perambulating  picture- 
gallery,  and,  to  crown  all/a  most  accomplished  courtier. 

You  must  know  I  am  in  great  favour  with  both  the 


104  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Grand  Duke  and  the  Grand  Duchess  ;  but,  on  the  plea  of 
jny  health,  I  accept  about  one  invitation  out  of  three,  for 
J  have  something  better  to  do  than  to  stand  dangling  in 
a  court  circle  talking  nothings. 

The  following  letter,  addressed  about  the  same 
period  to  her  kind  friend  Mrs.  Procter,  contains 
some  further  details  about  her  life  and  friends  at 
Weimar  : 

You  write  so  kindly  that  I  am  sure  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear  of  my  plans,  and  that  my  return  to  England  is  nearly 
settled  for  next  month.  I  only  wait  till  the  weather  is 
more  mild,  and  till  the  steamboats  have  recommenced  on  the 
Rhine.  I  bring  with  me  a  half-finished  book,  which  I  think 
will  please  you  better  than  my  last.  It  is  less  superficial  and 
broken.  How  the  other  volumes  succeeded  I  scarcely 
know,  as  I  left  England  almost  immediately  after  the  pub- 
lication ;  but  in  spite  of  many  errors  they  have  made  me 
popular  in  Germany.  Here,  both  in  public  and  private, 
they  make  such  a  spoiled  child  of  me,  that  it  is  lucky  I 
am  too  old  to  have  my  head  turned,  and  know  too  well 
the  limits  of  my  own  capabilities  to  be  tempted  out  of  the 
circle,  or  to  meddle  with  matters  which  are  too  high  for 
me.  I  am  pleased  at  the  idea  of  meeting  Mrs.  Butler  in 
England.  I  did  not  read  her  journal  till  last  November, 
and  luckily  had  not  read  any  of  the  critiques  upon  it,  either 
English  or  American.  It  is  mostly  the  impress  of  her  own 
mind — full  of  genius  and  power,  full  of  the  exuberance  of 
four-and-twenty,  with  rash  and  hasty  opinions  here  and 
there,  and  expressions  and  phrases  that  startle  one  not 
pleasantly  ;  but  for  all  that  I  was  enchanted,  and  read 
through  the  two  volumes  almost  without  taking  breath.  I 
met  her  brother  John  at  Leipzig ;  ...  he  talked  to  me 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  105 


as  if  he  had  been  soliloquising  before  the  public.  .  .  . 
But  he  is  handsome,  and  so  like  Fanny,  with  the  same 
dark  bright  eyes.  Adelaide  was  always  a  pet  of  mine, 
and  I  am  charmed  with  her  success. 

I  believe  that  on  my  return  to  England  I  shall  be  accom- 
.panied  by  a  lady  of  this  place,  who  is  going  to  Scotland  to 
spend  the  summer  with  Sir  John  and  Lady  Ramsey,  and  will 
remain  some  few  days  (perhaps  a  fortnight)  in  London.  Will 
you  allow  me  to  introduce  her  to  you  and  your  mother,  and 
expect  your  kindness  for  her  ?  She  is  a  charming  specimen 
of  the  true  German  woman,  no  longer  young,  that  is,  not  very 
young,  nor  very  handsome,  nor  very  clever,  but  well  informed, 
well  bred,  simple-minded,  warm-hearted — an  excellent  per- 
son altogether,  with  a  dash  of  German  romance  which  I 
think  will  delight  you,  and  quite  enthusiastic  about  Eng- 
land ;  she  speaks  English  extremely  well,  and  is  fond  of 
our  literature.  I  have  been  staying  four  months  in  the 
house  of  her  sister,  Mme.  de  Goethe,  and  treated  like  a 
pet  child.  To  their  constant  and  devoted  attention  I  owe 
my  recovery  from  a  most  alarming  state  of  health.  You 
may  judge,  therefore,  how  anxious  I  am  to  make  her  short 
stay  in  London  as  pleasant  as  possible.  She  has  no  taste 
for  sight-seeing,  but  I  must  of  course  do  the  honours  of  all 
our  theatres. 

I  long  to  be  introduced  to  the  two  new  babies,  your 

little  E and  Louisa's  anonymous  production — for  would 

you  believe  it,  I  do  not  even  know  her  name !  I  thank 
you  from  my  heart  for  your  little  postscript,  for  so  long  a 
time  has  elapsed  since  I  heard  from  my  dear  home,  that, 
but  for  your  kind  assurance  that  all  was  well,  I  should 
have  been  quite  unable  to  share  in  the  gaieties  here.  The 
Grand  Duke's  birthday  has  been  celebrated  with  great 
splendour,  and  I  am  half  dead  of  dissipation.  Another 
ball  to-night,  the  fourth  this  week !  Luckily  the  early 


io6  ANNA  JAMESON. 

.hours  will  save  my  life,  for  here  a  ball,  even  of  the  highest 
fashion,  begins  at  half-past  seven,  and  is  generally  over  by 
one  o'clock.  The  opera  begins  at  six  and  ends  at  nine  ; 
this  I  call  sensible  and  rational,  though  I  think  I  see  you 
smile. 

Farewell,  my  dear  friend,  and  God  bless  you  and  pre- 
serve to  you  all  you  love.  Keep  a  corner  of  your  heart 
warm  for  me,  against  my  arrival.  I  am  ever  the  same, 

Affectionately  yours, 

ANNA. 

I  never  hear  a  word  from  Jameson.  In  the  last  six- 
teen months  I  have  had  two  letters. 

During  all  these  travels  and  encounters,  how- 
ever, the  private  question  what  was  to  become  of 
her  and  of  her  life,  how  it  was  henceforward  to  be 
shaped  and  how  maintained,  must  have  occupied  her 
mind  in  all  the  silent  hours,  and  pervaded  her  every 
thought.  Her  husband's  letters  were  not  to  be  neg- 
lected or  put  aside,  and  a  decision  one  way  or  the 
other  was  imperatively  called  for.  Nothing  could 
be  better  or  kinder  in  expression,  as  has  been  seen, 
than  the  repeated  letters  which  called  her  to  his 
side,  nothing  more  tender  than  his  apparent  affec- 
tion and  the  anticipations  with  which  he  looked 
forward  to  their  reunion.  It  is  only  justice  to  Mr. 
Jameson  to  state  this,  even  at  the  risk  of  making  my 
aunt  appear  somewhat  stern  in  her  persistent  doubt 
of  the  truth  of  protestations  which  she  had  fully 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  107 


tested  in  previous  years.  I  do  not  propose  to  enter 
into  all  the  correspondence  ;  but  having  quoted  from 
Mr.  Jameson's  letters,  which  are  so  apt  to  prejudice 
the  mind  entirely  in  his  favour,  I  must  also  quote 
one  of  hers,  which  will  show  better  than  any- 
thing else  the  state  of  grave  doubt  and  anxiety  in 
which  these  affectionate-seeming  epistles  left  her. 
It  is  thus  that  she,  who  knew  every  detail  of  the 
question  between  them,  wrote  to  him,  the  only  other 
individual  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  state  of 
matters.  The  letter  is  dated  Weimar,  February 
1836,  and  is  in  answer  to  the  two  letters  which  I 
have  quoted. 

MY  DEAR  ROBERT, — The  feelings  of  perplexity  and  un- 
certainty into  which  I  have  been  thrown  by  the  whole 
course  of  our  correspondence  almost  discourage  me  from 
writing  to  you,  and  take  from  me  all  power  to  express 
myself  with  that  flow  and  openness  which  were  otherwise 
natural  to  me.  From  October  1834  down  to  this  present 
February  1836,  I  have  received  from  you  two  letters,  dated 
1 2th  October  1834,  and  I4th  May  1835,  and  these  two 
letters  contained  no  syllable  which  could  give  me  the 
slightest  idea  of  your  social  position  in  Canada  ;  and  though 
you  expressed  in  the  last  letter  a  general  wish  that  I  should 
join  you,  very  slightly  and  vaguely  expressed  (a  hope  rather 
than  an  intention  or  an  expectation),  there  was  not  a  word 
which  I  could  interpret  into  any  decision  on  the  subject,  no 
instructions  as  to  my  voyage,  and  no  answer  to  the  ques- 
tions and  enquiries  with  which  my  letters  were  filled. 
Between  October  1834  and  October  1835  I  wrote  you  eleven 
letters.  In  August  1835  I  received  from  you  a  bill  of  ioo/., 


io8  ANNA  JAMESON. 

and  in  January  1836  I  received  from  Henry  the  intelligence 
that  you  had  sent  me  a  bill  of  ioo/.,  but  no  letter  for  me.  I 
wrote  immediately  to  beg  for  some  information  concerning 
you,  and  Henry  by  return  of  post  sent  me  your  letter  to  him. 
It  is  a  letter  of  about  two  pages,  in  a  jesting  style,  com- 
plaining that  you  never  hear  a  word  from  me,  but  not 
saying  that  you  have  written,  or  giving  the  dates  of  any 
letters  you  have  forwarded  to  me  ;  not  saying  anything  of 
your  position  in  Canada,  although  the  state  of  affairs  there,  as 
it  is  reported  in  all  the  papers,  English  and  German,  made 
me  expect  either  the  news  of  your  return,  or  some  intelli- 
gence from  you  that  should  tranquillise  me  about  your 
situation  and  movements.  You  say  in  the  same  letter  that 
it  is  your  intention  to  marry  again  immediately.  My  dear 
Robert,  jesting  apart,  I  wish  it  only  depended  on  me  to 
give  you  that  power.  You  might  perhaps  be  happy  with 
another  woman — a  union  such  as  ours  is,  and  has  been  ever, 
is  a  real  mockery  of  the  laws  of  God  and  man.  You  have 
the  power  to  dispose  of  our  fate  as  far  as  it  depends  on  each 
other.  I  placed  that  power  in  your  hands  in  my  letter 
written  from  England,  and  had  you  used  that  power  in  a 
decided  manly  spirit,  whether  to  unite  or  to  part  us,  I  had 
respected  you  the  more,  and  would  have  arranged  my  life 
accordingly.  But  what  an  existence  is  this  to  which  you 
have  reduced  us  both  !  If  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to 
live  without  me — if  your  vague  letters  signify  a  purpose  of 
this  kind — for  God's  sake  speak  the  truth  to  me ;  but  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  your  purpose  to  remain  in  Canada, 
to  settle  there  under  any  political  change,  and  your  real 
wish  to  have  me  with  you  and  make  another  trial  for 
happiness,  tell  me  so  distinctly  and  decidedly — tell  me 
at  what  time  to  leave  England — tell  me  what  things  I 
ought  to  take  with  me,  what  furniture,  books,  &c.,  will  be 
necessary  or  agreeable,  what  kind  of  life  I  shall  live,  that  I 


MIDDLE  LIFE.  109 


may  come  prepared  to  render  my  own  existence  and  yours 
as  pleasant  as  possible.  To  the  letter  from  England 
written  before  my  departure  for  Germany,  containing  my 
own  wishes,  and  certain  conditions,  on  the  fulfilment  of 
which  I  would  be  really  happy  to  join  you,  I  received  no 
answer,  though  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  you 
received  that  letter. 

I  came  to  Weimar  completely  broken  down.  I  have 
since  been  staying  with  the  Goethe  family,  who  have  nursed 
me  like  a  pet  sister,  and  the  first  physician  here  has  done 
much  for  me.  Since  the  beginning  of  January  I  have  been 
recovering,  and  am  in  hopes  that  I  shall  be  able  to  return 
to  England  in  April  or  even  sooner.  There  I  shall  await 
your  next  letter,  and  according  to  its  contents  I  shall  regu- 
late my  future  plans.  Farewell !  I  expect  your  answer  in 
July  next. 

The  summons,  imperative  enough  to  satisfy  all 
scruples,  must  have  come  as  anticipated  in  July,  for 
early  in  August  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  an  intimate 
friend  : 

I  am  going  to  Canada — that  is,  my  husband  has  sent 
over  his  very  peremptory  request  that  I  should  join  him, 
giving  some  cogent  reasons,  and  I  am  much  engaged 
making  my  preparations.  The  exact  time  of  my  de- 
parture is  not  fixed — I  suppose  it  will  be  about  the  loth 
September.  Still  such  is  Jameson's  very  peculiar  character 
that  I  do  not  myself  feel  secure  of  going— his  next  letter 
may  again  defer  my  voyage. 

On  the  contrary,  the  next  letters  came  more 
urgent,  more  anxious  for  Mrs.  Jameson's  speedy 


no  ANNA  JAMESON. 

departure.  In  what  was  apparently  the  last  letter 
received  before  starting,  bearing  date  Toronto,  July 
30,  Mr.  Jameson  sends  careful  directions,  and  winds 
up  with — 

Write  to  me  immediately,  and  say  what  measure  of  good 
is  reserved  for  me.  If  you  come  out  alone,  I  will  either 
meet  you  at  New  York  or  make  such  arrangements  that 
you  shall  not  feel  yourself  in  the  least  a  stranger  on  your 
landing  in  the  Western  world.  Alma  vows  it  is  his  right  to 
go  to  New  York  and  escort  his  patroness  to  Upper  Canada. 
But  it  is  very  possible  that  it  may  neither  be  in  the  power 
of  one  or  the  other.  It  is,  however,  consolatory  that  the 
great  steamboat  communication  up  the  Hudson  and  by 
Lake  Ontario  makes  a  journey  from  New  York  a  very 
different  thing  from  an  inland  journey  of  like  extent. 


AMERICA.  in 


CHAPTER   V. 

AMERICA. 

WHETHER  lured  by  the  attraction  of  so  many  tender 
anticipations  and  the  fond  and  eager  welcome 
offered  to  her,  or  merely  obeying  the  call  of  duty 
and  her  husband,  Mrs.  Jameson  sailed  for  America 
in  September  1836.  It  would  certainly  appear 
from,  if  nothing  else,  the  melancholy  with  which  she 
afterwards  records  the  obliteration  of  all  happier 
prospects,  that  there  still  existed  some  hope  in  her 
mind  of  a  real  reunion.  Nothing,  however,  but 
disappointment  seems  to  have  awaited  her.  She 
landed  early  in  November  at  New  York,  where  she 
expected  to  find  an  escort  and  companion  for  her 
further  journey.  When  she  reached  this  city,  how- 
ever, she  found  no  sign  that  she  was  expected  ; 
neither  her  husband  nor  the  faithful  friend  John 
Alma,  whom  he  had  announced  as  her  intended 
guide  in  case  he  were  himself  unable  to  meet  her ; 
not  even  a  letter  to  indicate  and  arrange  the  best 
way  for  her  to  travel.  Thus  disappointment  met 


ii2  ANNA  JAMESON. 

her  the  moment  she  set  foot  in  the  new  strange 
country,  where  indeed,  as  everywhere,  she  found 
friends,  but  none  near  enough  or  warm  enough  to 
console  her  in  her  loneliness  after  her  dreary  winter 
voyage.  She  wrote  in  great  depression  of  mind, 
as  was  very  natural,  on  November  u,  from  the 
American  Hotel,  New  York,  to  Toronto,  to  ask 
why  she  had  not  been  met,  and  for  directions  as 
to  her  further  journey.  But  this  letter  had  as  yet 
elicited  no  reply  when,  nearly  three  weeks  later, 
on  November  29  she  began  a  letter  to  her  family 
in  the  same  painful  uncertainty  and  despondency, 
not  knowing  whether  she  should  go  forward  or 
return  at  once  to  England — alternatives  almost 
equally  miserable  in  her  discouraged  and  weakened 
condition.  She  heads  this  letter  '  No.  2,'  saying, 
'  No.  i  was  sent  by  the  packet  of  the  i6th;  write 
soon  for  God's  sake!'  Her  letter  is  addressed  to  all 
the  members  of  the  home  circle. 

My  dearest  Father,  Mamma,  and  Sisters  all, — You  will 
be  surprised  to  find  I  am  still  here,  and  yet  more  surprised 
to  hear  that  1  have  no  tidings  of  Jameson — not  one  word. 

I  am Just  as  I  was  writing  these  lines  in  came  a  letter 

from  Jameson  which  had  been  sent  to  the  British  Consulate. 
It  is  like  all  his  letters,  very  well  written,  very  plausible, 
very  kind,  agreeing  to  everything.  I  shall  set  off  imme- 
diately, and  have  a  world  of  business  and  packing-up  to  be 
done.  I  had  a  short  but  sharp  illness  of  three  days,  owing 
to  the  effects  of  my  voyage,  and  worry,  and  suspense.  But 


AMERICA.  113 


except  this  I  have  been  well.  The  enthusiasm  about  me 
here  is  very  great,  even  to  a  troublesome  degree,  for  I  have 
more  engagements  than  I  can  possibly  keep,  more  visitors 
than  I  can  see,  and  more  devoted  admirers  than  I  can 
count.  I  have  made  an  agreement  about  a  new  edition 
of  the  '  Characteristics,' which  is  likely  to  produce  five  hun- 
dred dollars.  The  two  last  copies  which  remained  were 
sold  by  a  bookseller  here  for  twelve  dollars  each — three 
times  the  original  price  ;  such  has  been  the  momentary 
run  after  my  books. 

I  am  dying  for  news  from  my  dear  home,  and  feel  too 
truly  and  deeply  that  I  am  going  to  Toronto  with  far  more 
mistrust  and  fear  than  confidence  and  hope.  If  I  could 
believe  all  that  Jameson  writes,  I  might  suppose  I  was 
going  into  an  Elysium  ;  but  the  puzzling  thing  is,  to 
reconcile  his  words  and  his  actions,  what  he  is,  and  what 
he  seems  ;  he  is  quite  past  my  comprehension. 

Among  my  best  friends  here  are  the  Duers.  When  I 
was  ill  they  wanted  me  to  take  up  my  abode  in  their 
house.  The  two  daughters  of  Duer  are  nice  girls,  one 
particularly  who  is  very  like  him,  but  my  especial  favourite 
is  Ellen  Duer,  his  niece,  who  is  singularly  clever,  intelli- 
gent, and  independent.  Charles  Augustus  Davis,  the 
author  of  Major  Downing's  letters,  and  his  very  pleasing 
wife,  are  also  among  my  best  friends.  I  dined  a  few  days 
ago  with  the  widow  of  the  celebrated  De  Witt  Clinton 
(papa  knows  all  about  him,  I  dare  say) — she  is  quite  a 
character,  and  amused  me  exceedingly.  She  gave  me  a 
wampum  bag  which  had  been  a  present  to  her  from  an 
Indian  chief.  In  the  way  of  presents  my  table  is  covered 
with  books,  presentation  copies,  poems,  and  the  Lord  knows 
what.  I  had  a  long  visit  yesterday  from  Washington 
Irving,  who  has  a  most  benevolent  and  agreeable  counte- 
nance, and  talks  well. 

I 


ii4  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Of  the  manner  in  which  the  journey  was  prose- 
cuted, and  the  state  of  mind  in  which  she  began  her 
life  at  Toronto,  so  strange,  so  new  and  solitary,  Mrs. 
Jameson  has  left  the  most  complete  record  in  the  book 
entitled  'Winter  Studies  and  Summer  Rambles/  pub- 
lished in  1838 ;  which  is,  in  fact,  the  history  of  her  life 
in  Canada,  with  all  its  discouragements  and  all  its  ex- 
pedients for  keeping  hope  and  cheerfulness  alive  amid 
the  torpor  of  so  uncongenial  a  place.  '  My  friends  at 
New  York,'  she  writes,  'expended  much  eloquence 
in  endeavouring  to  dissuade  me  from  a  winter  jour- 
ney to  Canada.  I  listened,  and  was  grateful  for 
their  solicitude,  but  must  own  I  did  not  credit  the 
picture  they  drew  of  the  difficulties  and  dtsagrdmens 
I  was  likely  to  meet  by  the  way.  I  had  chosen, 
they  said  (Heaven  knows  I  did  not  choose  it),  the 
very  worst  season  for  a  journey  through  the  State  of 
New  York.  The  usual  facilities  for  travelling  were 
now  suspended.  A  few  weeks  sooner  the  rivers  and 
canals  had  been  open  ;  a  few  weeks  later  the  roads, 
smothered  up  with  snow,  had  been  in  sleighing 
order;  now  the  navigation  was  frozen,  and  the 
roads  so  broken  up  as  to  be  nearly  impassable. 
Then  there  was  only  a  night  boat  on  the  Hudson, 
"to  proceed,"  as  the  printed  paper  set  forth,  "to 
Albany,  or  as  far  as  the  ice  permitted."  All  this 
was  discouraging  enough ;  but  necessity,  and  an 
anxious  desire  to  know  her  fate  one  way  or  other, 


AMERICA.  115 

made  her  strong  against  all  such  discouragements. 
She  had  the  courage  at  once  of  ignorance  and  of 
resolution.  '  I  could  form  no  notion,'  she  says,  '  of 
difficulties  which  by  fair  words,  presence  of  mind, 
and  money  in  my  pocket,  could  not  be  obviated.' 
She  had  travelled  all  over  Europe,  often  alone,  why 
not  here?  And,  indeed,  the  voyage  up  the  Hudson 
was  sufficiently  novel  to  produce  a  new  sensation. 

At  the  first  blush  of  morning,  I  escaped  from  the  heated 
cabin,  crowded  with  listless  women  and  clamorous  children, 
and  found  my  way  to  the  deck.  I  was  surprised  by  a 
spectacle  as  beautiful  as  it  was  new  to  me.  The  Catskill 
mountains  which  we  had  left  behind  us  in  the  night  were 
still  visible,  but  just  melting  from  the  view,  robed  in  a 
misty  purple  light,  while  our  magnificent  steamer — the 
prow  armed  with  a  sharp  iron  sheath  for  the  purpose — was 
crashing  its  way  through  solid  ice  four  inches  thick  which 
seemed  to  close  behind  us  into  an  adhesive  mass,  so  that 
the  wake  of  the  vessel  was  not  distinguished  a  few  yards 
from  the  stern  ;  yet  in  the  path  thus  opened,  and  only 
seemingly  closed,  followed  at  some  little  distance  a  beautiful 
schooner  and  two  smaller  steam  vessels.  I  walked  up  and 
down  from  the  prow  to  the  stern,  refreshed  by  the  keen 
frosty  air  and  the  excitement  caused  by  various  picturesque 
effects  on  the  ice-bound  river  and  its  frozen  shores,  till  we 
reached  Hudson.  Beyond  this  town  it  was  not  safe  for 
the  boat  to  advance,  and  we  were  still  thirty  miles  below 
Albany.  After  leaving  Hudson  (with  the  exception  of  the 
railroad  between  Albany  and  Utica)  it  was  all.heavy  weary 
work — the  most  painfully  fatiguing  journey  I  can  remember. 
Such  were  the  roads  that  we  were  once  six  hours  going 

I    2 


u6  ANNA  JAMESON. 

eleven  miles.  .  .  .  After  six  days  and  nights  of  this 
travelling,  unrelieved  by  companionship  or  interest  of  any 
kind,  I  began  to  sink  with  fatigue.  The  first  thing  that 
roused  me  was  our  arrival  at  the  ferry  of  the  Niagara  river, 
at  Queenstown,  about  seven  miles  below  the  falls.  It  was 
a  dark  night,  and  our  little  boat  was  tossed  on  the  eddying 
waters,  and  guided  by  a  light  to  the  opposite  shore  we 
could  distinctly  hear  the  deep  roar  of  the  cataract,  filling 
and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  shaking  the  atmosphere  round  us. 
.  .  .  You  may  believe  that  I  woke  up  very  decidedly 
from  my  lethargy  of  weariness  to  listen  to  that  mysterious 
voice,  which  made  my  blood  pause  and  think. 

After  this  the  tedious  journey  was  shortened  by 
a  fortunate  chance,  a  steamer,  contrary  to  all  hope, 
being  found  on  Lake  Ontario,  the  last  of  the  season. 
The  traveller  and  her  belongings  were  hurried  on 
board,  where,  completely  exhausted,  she  fell  asleep, 
and  knew  no  more  until  the  arrival,  which  she  de- 
scribes as  follows  with  all  the  intensity  of  a  deeply 
felt  yet  quiet  despair  : 

How  long  I  slept  I  know  not — they  roused  me  sud- 
denly to  tell  me  we  were  at  Toronto,  and,  not  very  well 
able  to  stand,  I  hurried  on  deck.  The  wharf  was  utterly 
deserted,  the  arrival  of  the  steamboat  being  accidental  and 
unexpected  ;  and  as  I  stepped  out  of  the  boat  I  sank  ankle- 
deep  into  mud  and  ice.  The  day  was  intensely  cold  and 
damp,  the  sky  lowered  sulkily,  laden  with  snow  which  was 
just  beginning  to  fall.  Half- blinded  by  the  sleet  driven 
into  my  face,  and  the  tears  which  filled  my  eyes,  I  walked 
about  a  mile  through  a  quarter  of  the  town  mean  in  appear- 
ance, not  thickly  inhabited,  and  to  me  as  yet  an  unknown 


AMERICA.  1 1 7 

wilderness,  and  through  dreary  miry  ways,  never  much 
thronged,  and  now,  by  reason  of  the  impending  snowstorm, 
nearly  solitary.  I  heard  no  voices,  no  quick  footsteps  of 
men  or  children ;  I  met  no  familiar  face,  no  look  of  wel- 
come. I  was  sad  at  heart  as  a  woman  could  be.  And  these 
were  the  impressions,  the  feelings,  with  which  I  entered  the 
house  which  was  to  be  called  my  home. 

A  more  miserable  beginning  to  a  life  from  which 
so  little  comfort  had  been  expected  it  would  be 
impossible  to  imagine,  and  there  would  not  seem  to 
have  been  any  possibility  of  illusion  in  the  traveller's 
eyes,  or  in  fact  any  sudden  delight  of  welcome, 
opening  with  the  opening  door  upon  her,  as  might 
well  have  been  even  after  all  the  accidents  of  the 
beginning.  Lonely  as  she  strayed  through  those 
unknown  streets,  with  the  sleet  in  her  face  and  the 
tears  in  her  eyes,  was  she  to  struggle  through  this 
painful  episode  in  her  life.  The  arrival  was  ap- 
parently a  fitting  preface  to  the  chapter  of  melan- 
choly existence  which  followed.  Here  is  again  her 
own  description  of  her  feelings  when,  a  little  rested 
from  her  fatigues,  she  had  time  to  look  out  upon 
the  scene  around  : 

What  Toronto  may  be  in  summer  I  cannot  tell  ;  they 
say  it  is  a  pretty  place.  At  present  its  appearance  to  me, 
a  stranger,  is  most  strangely  mean  and  melancholy.  A 
little  ill-built  town  on  low  land,  at  the  bottom  of  a  frozen 
bay,  with  one  very  ugly  church  without  tower  or  steeple  ; 
some  government  offices  built  of  staring  red  brick  in  the 


n8  ANNA  JAMESON. 

most  tasteless  vulgar  taste  imaginable  ;  three  feet  of  snow 
all  around,  and  the  grey  sullen  uninviting  lake  and  the 
dark  gloom  of  the  pine  forest  bounding  the  prospect.  Such 
seems  Toronto  to  me  now.  I  did  not  expect  much,  but 
for  this  I  was  not  prepared.  Perhaps  no  preparation  could 
have  prepared  me,  or  softened  my  present  feelings.  I  will 
not  be  unjust  if  I  can  help  it,  nor  querulous.  If  I  look  into 
my  own  heart,  I  find  that  it  is  regret  for  what  I  have  left" 
and  lost,  the  absent  not  the  present,  which  throws  over  all 
around  me  a  chill  colder  than  that  of  the  wintry  day,  a 
gloom  deeper  than  that  of  the  wintry  night. 

This  is  all  very  dismal,  very  weak  perhaps.  Hitherto  I 
have  not  been  accused  of  looking  on  the  things  of  this  world 
as  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  rather  of  the  contrary  ten- 
dency. What  have  I  done  with  my  spectacles  couleur  de 
rose  ?  The  cheerful  faith  which  sustained  me  through  far 
worse  than  anything  I  can  anticipate  here  ;  the  desire  to 
know,  the  impatience  to  learn,  the  quick  social  sympathies, 
the  readiness  to  please  and  be  pleased — derived  perhaps  from 
my  Irish  blood,  and  to  which  I  have  owed  a  world  of  com- 
fort when  I  have  most  needed  it,  so  much  of  enjoyment 
when  I  could  least  have  hoped  for  it — what  ?  and  are 
all  forgotten — are  all  gone  ?  Yet  am  I  not  quite  an  icicle 
or  an  oyster — I  almost  wish  I  were!  No,  worst  of  all  is 
this  regretful  remembrance  of  friends  who  loved  me,  this 
heartsick  longing  after  home  and  country  and  all  familiar 
things  and  dear  domestic  faces.  I  am  like  an  uprooted 
tree,  dying  at  the  core,  yet  with  a  strange  unreasonable 
power  at  times  of  working  at  my  own  most  miserable 
weakness.  Going  to  bed  in  tears  last  night,  after  saying 
my  prayers  for  those  far  away  across  that  terrible  Atlantic, 
an  odd  remembrance  flashed  across  me  of  that  Madame  de 
Boufflers  who  declared,  '  avec  tant  de  sfrieux  et  de  senti- 
ment] that  she  would  consent  to  go  as  ambassadress  to 


AMERICA.  119 

England  only  on  the  condition  of  taking  with  her  '  vingt- 
cinq  ou  vingt-six  de  ses  amis  int lines '  and  sixty  or 
eighty  persons  who  were  absolument  nfaessaires  a  son  bon- 
Jienr.  The  image  of  graceful  impertinence  thus  conjured 
up  made  me  smile,  but  am  I  so  unlike  her  in  this  fit  of 
unreason  ?  Everywhere  there  is  occupation  for  the  rational 
and  healthy  intellect,  everywhere  good  to  be  done,  duties 
to  be  performed  ;  everywhere  the  mind  is,  or  should  be,  its 
own  world,  its  own  country,  its  own  home  at  least.  How 
many  fine  things  I  could  say  or  quote  on  this  subject !  But 
in  vain  I  conjure  up  philosophy — '  she  will  not  come  when 
I  do  call  for  her ; '  but  in  her  stead  come  thronging  sad 
and  sorrowful  recollections  and  shivering  sensations,  all 
telling  me  that  I  am  a  stranger  among  strangers,  miserable 
inwardly  and  outwardly — and  that  the  thermometer  is 
twelve  degrees  below  zero  ! 

This  dismal  beginning  evidently  froze  the  very 
soul  in  the  new  emigrant,  and  she  never  entirely  re- 
covered that  first  unhappy  impression.  Canada,  which 
is  so  bright  in  the  recollection  of  most  visitors  to  it, 
was  to  her  always  dreary,  frost-bound,  colourless. 
Without  denying  its  many  beauties,  nay,  with  frequent 
admiration  of  the  striking  scenery  she  saw  in  her 
wanderings,  it  was  always  a  country  of  exile  to  her, 
sad  and  cold  as  the  grave  itself — a  very  curious 
effect  upon  so  sympathetic  a  mind,  and  one  so  soon 
roused  to  enthusiasm  and  to  a  kindly  fellow-feeling 
with  her  fellow-creatures.  But  there  is  nothing  so 
icy,  so  destructive  of  all  beauty  and  sunshine,  as 
that  chill  at  the  heart  which  she  had  experienced  at 


izo  ANNA  JAMESON, 

first,    and   from  which    no  subsequent  thawing  set 
her  free. 

The  book  from  which  we  have  quoted,  and 
which  has  been  stated  to  be  the  record  of  her  life 
in  Canada,  will  convey  to  the  reader  the  most  for- 
lorn yet  fine  picture  of  a  courageous  woman's 
attempt  to  render  her  life  liveable,  in  the  midst  of 
a  monotony  and  want  of  interest  which  she  felt  to 
be  killing.  After  the  sketch  of  her  melancholy 
loneliness  given  above,  she  rouses  herself  and  takes 
to  her  books ;  and  then  follow  some  chapters  of 
criticism  and  comment  upon  German  poetry,  upon 
Goethe,  and  Eckermann,  and  those  topics  of  art, 
literature,  the  theatre,  and  the  genius  of  the  Old 
World,  which  were  already  so  familiar  and  so  dear 
to  her — criticisms  and  reflections,  however,  very 
uncongenial  to  the  place  and  circumstances  from 
which  they  now  came.  These  angels  of  art 
stood  by  her  in  her  solitude,  and  helped  her  to 
live  through  the  lingering  winter,  of  which  she 
speaks  with  a  fervour  of  suffering  that  many  people 
will  deeply  sympathise  with.  Perhaps  it  is  only 
youth  to  which  physical  cold  is  a  matter  of  indif- 
ference— at  least  it  requires  a  special  degree  of 
robustness  in  the  constitution,  to  be  able  to  take  to 
a  permanently  diminished  temperature,  with  content, 
after  forty. 

I  could  almost  wish  myself  a  dormouse  (Mrs.  Jameson 


AMERICA.  121 


says)  or  a  she-bear,  to  sleep  away  the  rest  of  this  cold,  cold 
winter,  and  to  wake  only  with  the  first  green  leaves;  the 
first  warm  breath  of  summer  wind.  I  shiver  through  the 
day  and  through  the  night ;  and,  like  poor  Harry  Gill, 
'  my  teeth,  my  teeth,  they  chatter  still,'  and  then  at  inter- 
vals I  am  burned  up  with  a  dry  hot  fever.  This  is  what 
my  maid — a  good  little  Oxfordshire  girl — calls  the  '  hagur ' 
(the  ague),  more  properly  the  lake  fever,  or  cold  fever. 
From  the  particular  situation  of  Toronto  the  disorder  is 
very  prevalent  here  in  the  spring  ;  being  a  stranger  and 
not  yet  acclimatte,  it  has  attacked  me  thus  unseasonably. 

Her  active  mind,  however,  could  not  rest,  even 
in  the  chill  of  her  new  life,  without  some  attempt 
to  interest  herself  in  what  was  going  on  around. 
The  question  of  education  was  one  which  always 
interested  her  much,  and  on  the  occasion  of  a  dis- 
cussion in  the  Canadian  Parliament  on  this  point 
her  spirit  was  roused. 

As  a  mere  party  question  it  did  not  interest  me  (she 
says) ;  but  the  strange,  crude,  ignorant,  vague  opinions  I 
heard  in  conversation,  and  read  in  the  debates  and  pro- 
vincial papers,  excited  my  astonishment.  It  struck  me 
that  if  I  could  get  the  English  preface  to  Victor  Cousin's 
report  (of  which  I  had  a  copy)  printed  in  a  cheap  form  and 
circulated  with  the  newspapers,  it  might  assist  the  people 
to  some  general  principle  on  which  to  form  opinions  ; 
whereas  they  all  appeared  to  me  astray,  nothing  that  had 
been  promulgated  in  Europe  on  the  momentous  question 
having  yet  reached  this.  But  no ;  cold  water  was  thrown 
upon  me  from  every  side  ;  my  interference  in  any  way  was 
so  visibly  distasteful  that  I  gave  my  project  up  with  many 
a  sigh. 


1 2 2  ANNA-  JAMESON. 

But  her  spirit  was  not  to  be  driven  into  lethargy 
by  either  ice  within,  or  cold  water  without ;  and  in 
the  middle  of  winter  we  find  her  starting,  glad  to 
have  the  relief  of  movement  and  activity  in  any 
form  that  would  present  itself,  on  an  expedition  to 
Niagara.  '  Five  days/  she  exclaims,  '  of  frost  and 
snow  ; '  but  her  doctor  counselled  the  change  as  the 
only  way  of  throwing  off  the  continually  recurring 
fever,  and  she  set  out  in  the  end  of  January  in  a 
sleigh,  '  absolutely  buried  in  furs.'  The  description 
of  the  journey  is  minutely  given,  and,  but  for  the 
prevailing  tints  of  grey,  it  would  be  an  attractive 
one.  She  describes  '  the  sublime  desolation  of 
winter '  with  a  sympathetic  shiver.  '  The  whole  ap- 
peared as  if  converted  into  snow,  which  fell  in  thick 
tiny  starry  flakes,  till  the  buffalo  robes  and  furs 
about  us  appeared  like  swan's-down,  and  the  har- 
ness on  the  horses  of  the  same  delicate  material. 
The  whole  earth  was  a  white  waste ;  the  road,  on 
which  the  sleigh  track  was  only  just  perceptible, 
ran  for  miles  in  a  straight  line  ;  on  each  side  rose 
the  dark  melancholy  pine  forest,  slumbering  drearily 
in  the  hazy  air.  ...  A  few  roods  from  the  land,  the 
cold  grey  waters  (of  Lake  Ontario)  and  the  cold 
grey  snow-encumbered  atmosphere  were  mingled 
with  each  other,  and  each  seemed  either.'  After 
various  adventures  however,  overturns  in  the  snow, 
and  other  natural  incidents  of  a  sleigh  journey,  she 


AMERICA.  123 


arrived  at  her  journey's  end,  and  then — had  nothing 
but  disappointment  for  her  reward.  But  the  con- 
clusion must  be  given  in  her  own  words.  She 
expresses  in  dismay  her  wish  that  the  Falls  were 
like  Yarrow,  yet  unvisited,  unbeheld.  '  No,  it  must 
be  my  own  fault/  she  cries — 

The  reality  has  displaced  from  my  mind  an  illusion 
much  more  magnificent  than  itself.  I  have  no  words  for  my 
utter  disappointment.  Oh  !  I  could  beat  myself !  and  now 
there  is  no  help  !  The  first  moment,  the  first  impression  is 
over,  is  lost ;  though  I  should  live  a  thousand  years,  as 
long  as  Niagara  itself  shall  roll,  I  can  never  see  it  again 
for  the  first  time.  Something  is  gone  that  cannot  be  re- 
stored. What  has  come  over  my  soul  and  senses  ?  I  am 
metamorphosed  ;  I  am  translated  ;  I  am  an  ass's  head,  a 
clod,  a  wooden  spoon,  a  fat  weed  growing  on  Lethe's 
brink,  a  stock,  a  stone,  a  petrifaction.  For  have  I  not 
seen  Niagara,  the  wonder  of  wonders,  and  felt — no  words 
can  tell  what — disappointment  ? 

Mrs.  Jameson,  however,  was  not  alone,  her 
guide  and  companion  assured  her,  in  this  feeling ; 
but  she  does  not  seem  to  have  taken  much  comfort 
from  the  thought. 

Her  experiences  in  Canada  were  not  entirely 
of  this  snow-bound  and  frost-bitten  class.  The  time 
came  at  last  when  all  nature  changed  as  if  by  magic, 
and  when  a  brighter  picture  rose  before  the  solitary 
dreamer's  eyes.  In  May  she  writes  as  follows  : 

This  beautiful  Lake  Ontario— my  lake,  for  I  begin  to 


124  ANNA  JAMESON. 

be  in  love  with  it,  and  look  on  it  as  mine — it  changes  its 
hues  every  moment,  the  shades  of  purple  and  green  fleeting 
over  it,  now  dark,  now  lustrous,  now  pale  like  a  dolphin 
dying,  or,  to  use  a  more  exact  though  less  poetical  com- 
parison, dappled  and  varying  like  the  back  of  a  mackerel, 
with  every  now  and  then  a  streak  of  silver  light  dividing 
the  shades  of  green.  Magnificent  tumultuous  clouds  came 
rolling  round  the  horizon  ;  and  the  little  graceful  schooners 
falling  into  every  beautiful  attitude,  and  catching  every 
variety  of  light  and  shade,  came  curtseying  into  the  bay  ; 
and  flights  of  wild  geese  and  great  black  loons  were  skim- 
ming, diving,  sporting  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake  ;  and 
beautiful  little  unknown  birds,  in  gorgeous  plumage  of 
crimson  and  black,  were  floating  about  the  garden  ;  all 
life  and  light  and  beauty  were  abroad,  the  resurrection  of 
Nature.  How  beautiful  it  was  !  how  dearly  welcome  to 
my  senses — to  my  heart — this  opening  which  comes  at  last, 
so  long  wished  for,  so  long  waited  for  ! 

That  the  changing  season  did  not,  however, 
change  her  plans,  is  evident ;  and  we  must  go  back 
a  little  from  this  pleasant  burst  of  spring,  to  show 
how  life  was  tending  with  her,  and  what  her  final 
conclusion  was.  The  following  letter  to  her  sister 
Charlotte  indicates  very  clearly  the  course  she  meant 
to  pursue  : 

Toronto,  March  15,  1837. 

This  is  your  birthday,  my  dearest  Charlotte ;  so  I  send 
you  my  blessing,  hoping  all  the  time  (with  true  human 
selfishness)  that  God  will  so  far  bless  me  as  to  preserve 
you  all  in  health  and  prosperity  till  I  see  you  again  and 
after.  I  have  asked  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hepburn  and  Mr.  Fitz- 


AMERICA.  125 


gibbon  to  come  here  this  evening  and  drink  your  health, 
which  we  shall  all  d®  most  devoutly,  and  once  again  may 
God  bless  you,  dearest,  and  spare  us  long  to  each  other. 
.  .  .  You  will  all  be  glad  to  hear  that  Jameson  is  appointed 
Chancellor  at  last.  He  is  now  at  the  top  of  the  tree,  and 
has  no  more  to  expect  or  to  aspire  to.  I  think  he  will 
make  an  excellent  Chancellor  ;  he  is  gentlemanlike,  cau- 
tious, and  will  stick  to  precedents,  and  his  excessive  reserve 
is  here  the  greatest  of  possible  virtues.  No  one  loves  him, 
it  is  true ;  but  every  one  approves  him,  and  his  promotion 
has  not  caused  a  murmur.  The  Solicitor-General  Hager- 
man  is  now  Attorney-General,  and  Draper  (the  member 
for  Toronto,  and  a  friend  of  Trelawney's)  is  now  Solicitor- 
General.  The  organisation  of  the  new  Court  of  Equity, 
and  the  moving  into  his  new  residence,  will  occupy  Mr. 
Jameson  and  me  for  a  month  or  two.  The  house  is  very 
pretty  and  compact,  and  the  garden  will  be  beautiful,  but 
I  take  no  pleasure  in  anything.  The  place  itself,  the 
society,  are  so  detestable  to  me,  my  own  domestic  posi- 
tion so  painful  and  so  without  remedy  or  hope,  that  to 
remain  here  would  be  death  to  me.  My  plan  is  to  help 
Jameson  in  arranging  his  house,  and,  when  the  spring  is 
sufficiently  advanced,  to  make  a  tour  through  the  western 
districts  up  to  Lake  Huron.  Towards  the  end  of  the  year 
I  trust  by  God's  mercy  to  be  in  England.  These  are  my 
plans.  I  hope  you  get  all  my  letters.  Eliza  does  not  say 
that  any  have  reached  you,  except  the  first  from  New 
York.  The  monotony  of  the  surrounding  country,  still 
covered  with  snow,  can  scarce  afford  me  a  subject  to 
write  upon,  the  only  event  being  the  prorogation  of  the 
Parliament.  The  ceremony  took  place  in  the  hall  of  the 
Legislative  Council.  Sir  Francis  l  sat  on  his  throne,  his 


1  Sir  Francis  Head. 


126  ANNA  JAMESON. 

hat  on. his  head,  and  his  sword  by  his  side,  and  gave  his 
assent  to  all  the  bills  passed  during  the  session  ;  reading 
the  titles  only  occupied  an  hour.  He  then  made  a  very 
fair  speech,  which,  besides  its  other  merits,  had  that  of 
being  his  own  composition.  I  sat,  of  course,  with  the  official 
ladies  and  the  grandees,  and  was  rather  amused  at  the 
whole  scene,  as  it  was  my  first  appearance  in  the  country, 
never  having  gone  to  any  party,  any  dinner,  or  any  as- 
sembly yet.  I  was  sufficiently  well  stared  at,  but  paid 
for  all  this  by  keeping  my  bed  four  days  from  aguish  cold 
and  fever.  It  is  the  most  hateful  climate  I  ever  encoun- 
tered, but  it  agrees  with  some  people  very  well.  I  have 
not  one  companion  ;  besides,  my  whole  heart  and  soul  are 
occupied.  I  am  too  old  to  cultivate  new  habits  of  exist- 
ence and  new  affections.  If  I  found  in  Jameson  anything 

I  wished but  as  it  is,  it  would  only  be  a  vain,  a  foolish 

struggle,  a  perpetual  discord  between  the  inner  and  out- 
ward being.  Lady  Head  has  not  yet  arrived,  her  voyage 
having  been  very  long ;  but  she  is  hourly  expected,  to  the 
Governor's  great  joy,  and  to  me  it  will  make  no  slight 
difference. 

On  May  26  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  Mr.  Noel, 
from  Toronto : 

Your   picture   and  the  Z 's  hang  on  each  side  of 

mine  in  the  little  drawing-room  where  I  write,  many 
thousand  miles  from  you  both,  and,  God  help  me !  from 
all  I  love  in  the  world.  Your  wish  that  I  might  find  here 
a  sphere  of  happiness  and  usefulness  is  not  realised.  I  am 
in  a  small  community  of  fourth-rate,  half-educated,  or 
uneducated  people,  where  local  politics  of  the  meanest 
kind  engross  the  men,  and  petty  gossip  and  household 
cares  the  women.  As  I  think  differently  from  Mr.  Jameson 


AMERICA.  127 

on  every  subject  which  can  occupy  a  thinking  mind,  I  keep 
clear  of  any  expression  (at  least  unnecessary  expression) 
of  my  opinions.  He  is  now  Chancellor  of  the  Province, 
and,  having  achieved  the  first  judicial  office,  can  go  no 
higher ;  he  has  much  power,  and  also  luckily  much  discre- 
tion, and  a  very  determined  intention  to  keep  well  with  all 
men,  and  lead  a  peaceful  life.  Is  not  this  wisdom  ?  It  is 
not  exactly  my  wisdom,  but  I  shall  not  contend  with  what 
cannot  be  altered  ;  neither  will  I  endure  what  neither  duty 
nor  necessity  require  me  to  endure.  I  shall  be  in  England 
about  October  or  November  next.  The  winter  has  been 
beyond  measure  dreary  and  lonely  ;  but  one  of  the  objects 
of  my  coming  will  be,  I  think,  accomplished,  and  my  future 
life  more  easy,  and  my  conscience  clear.  It  was  worth  the 
sacrifice  to  purchase  all  I  can  have  of  peace  and  inde- 
pendence for  the  rest  of  my  days,  and  what  we  do  from  a 
principle  of  duty  turns  out  well  surely.  So  I  put  my  trust 
in  God  and  my  own  firm  will,  and  '  will  not  fear  what  man 
can  do  unto  me.' 

Having  thus  made  up  her  mind,  the  coming  of 
summer  was  doubly  pleasant  to  her,  as  the  moment 
of  enfranchisement.  She  describes  the  sudden  out- 
burst of  the  genial  season  with  characteristic  grace 
and  enthusiasm  : 

We  have  already  (she  says,  June  8)  exchanged  the 
bloom  and  ravishment  of  spring  for  all  the  glowing  ma- 
turity of  summer— we  gasp  with  heat,  we  long  for  ices, 
and  are  planning  Venetian  blinds  ;  and  three  weeks  ago 
there  was  snow  lying  beneath  our  garden  fences,  and  not  a 
leaf  upon  the  trees  !  In  England,  when  Nature  wakes  up 
from  her  long  winter's  sleep,  it  is  like  a  sluggard  in  the 
morning ;  she  opens  one  eye  and  then  another,  and  shivers 


128  ANNA  JAMESON. 

and  draws  her  snow  coverlet  over  her  face  again,  and  turns 
round  to  slumber  more  than  once  before  she  emerges  at 
last,  lazily  and  slowly,  from  her  winter  chamber.  But 
here,  no  sooner  has  the  sun  peeped  through  her  curtains 
than  up  she  springs  like  a  huntress  from  the  chase,  and 
dons  her  kirtle  of  green,  and  walks  abroad  in  full  blown 
life  and  beauty.  I  am  basking  in  her  smile  like  an  insect 
or  a  bird. 

Without  laying  aside  the  books  which  had  helped 
her  through  the  long  winter,  she  began  to  find  that 
Canada,  too,  hitherto  so  dreary,  had  a  beauty  and 
interest  of  her  own,  and  even  to  find  that,  without 
knowing  it,  she  had  found  friends  in  the  uncongenial 
society  which  seemed  so  tedious  in  its  first  aspect. 

It  would  be  pleasant  verily  (she  says)  if,  after  all  my 
ill-humoured  and  impertinent  tirades  against  Toronto,  I 
were  doomed  to  leave  it  with  regret ;  yet  such  is  likely  to 
be  the  case.  There  are  some  most  kind-hearted  and  agree- 
able people  here  who  look  upon  me  with  more  friendliness 
than  at  first,  and  are  winning  fast  upon  my  feelings  if  not 
on  my  sympathies.  There  is  considerable  beauty  around 
me  too.  .  .  .  Ontario  means  '  the  beautiful,'  and  the  word 
is  worthy  its  signification,  and  the  lake  is  worthy  of  its 
beautiful  name — yet  I  can  hardly  tell  you  in  what  the 
fascination  consists.  .  .  .  The  expanse  of  this  lake  has 
become  to  me  as  the  face  of  a  friend  :  I  have  all  its  various 
expressions  by  heart.  I  go  down  upon  the  green  bank,  or 
along  the  King's  Pier,  which  projects  about  two  hundred 
yards  into  the  bay ;  I  sit  there  with  my  book,  reading 
sometimes,  but  oftener  watching  untired  the  changeful 
colours  as  they  flit  over  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  .  .  . 
I  am  meditating  a  flight  of  such  serious  extent  that  some 


AMERICA.  129 


of  my  friends   here   laugh   outright,  others   look   kindly 
alarmed,  others  incredulous. 

This  was  the  journey  into  the  least  known 
regions  of  Canada,  the  homes  of  the  Indians,  which 
she  had  resolved  upon  making  as  a  sort  of  compensa- 
tion at  once  to  herself,  and  to  the  public  at  home,  for 
her  banishment,  before  leaving  the  American  conti- 
nent. The  alarm  with  which  her  friends  regarded 
this  strange  resolution,  probably  unaware  of  all  the 
inducements  which  weighed  so  strongly  with  her, 
and  the  want  of  love  and  sympathy  which  made  her 
house  a  place  which  she  could  not  learn  to  look  upon 
as  her  home,  seems  to  have  been  mingled  with  ad- 
miration of  her  courage  and  high  spirit  in  the  under- 
taking ;  and  a  week  later,  having  just  set  out  on  the 
journey,  she  repeats  her  more  favourable  verdict 
upon  the  people  she  was  quitting. 

In  these  latter  days  (she  says)  I  have  lived  in  friendly 
communion  with  so  many  people,  that  my  departure  from 
Toronto  was  not  what  I  anticipated — an  escape  on  one 
side  and  a  riddance  on  the  other.  My  projected  tour  to 
the  west  excited  not  only  sincere  interest  but  much  kind 
solicitude,  and  aid  and  counsel  were  tendered  with  a  feel- 
ing which  touched  me  deeply.  The  Chief  Justice,  in  par- 
ticular, sent  me  a  whole  sheet  of  instructions  and  several 
letters  to  settlers  along  my  line  of  route. 

When  just  on  the  point  of  starting  she  was  intro- 
duced to  an  interesting  member  of  the  race  with 

K 


130  ANNA  JAMESON. 

which  she  was  so  anxious  to  become  acquainted,  an 
educated  Indian  woman  married  to  a  missionary, 
whose  home  was  on  the  far-distant  Sault  Ste  Marie, 
a  place  of  which  Mrs.  Jameson  says,  '  I  dare  hardly 
think  of  as  yet ;  it  looms  in  my  imagination  dimly 
descried  in  far  space,  a  kind  of  ultima  Thule ; '  and 
this  acquaintance  she  accepted  as  a  happy  augury. 
Then,  '  with  blessings,  good  wishes,  kind  pressures 
of  the  hand,  and  last  adieux  and  waving  of  handker- 
chiefs from  the  door,'  she  took  her  leave  of  Toronto. 
She  had  spent  about  six  months  in  the  place  in 
much  despondency,  loneliness,  and  suffering ;  and 
when  we  consider  how  she  was  going  away — alone, 
with  a  final  conclusion  put  to  all  chances  or  hopes 
which  might  ever  have  been,  of  a  happier  personal 
life,  with  henceforward  nothing  but  loneliness  be- 
fore her,  and  this  painful  chapter  of  existence  pain- 
fully over — the  few  words  in  which  she  describes  her 
feelings  at  this  strange  moment  speak  volumes  at 
once  as  to  the  relief  of  this  absolute  conclusion,  and 
the  elasticity  and  courage  of  her  disposition  through 
whatever  trials. 

I  have  not  been  happy  enough  in  Toronto  to  regret  it 
as  a  place,  and  if  touched,  as  I  really  was,  by  the  kind 
solicitude  of  those  friends  who  but  a  few  weeks  ago  were 
entire  strangers  to  me,  I  yet  felt  no  sorrow.  Though  no 
longer  young,  I  am  quite  young  enough  to  feel  all  the 
excitement  of  plunging  into  scenes  so  entirely  new  as  were 
now  opening  before  me  ;  and  this,  too,  with  a  specific 


AMERICA.  13 ! 

object   far  beyond   mere  amusement   and  excitement,  an 
object  not  unworthy. 

The  expedition  lasted  two  months,  during  which 
Mrs.  Jameson  penetrated  to  the  depths  of  the  Indian 
settlements,  explored  Lake  Huron,  and  saw  a  great 
deal  of  life,  Canadian  and  Indian.  The  journey  is 
too  long,  and  its  adventures  too  detailed,  to  be  more 
than  mentioned  here,  especially  as  the  whole  story 
of  it  may  be  found*  in  the  book  on  Canada  already 
so  largely  quoted.  The  '  Summer  Rambles  '  occupy 
more  pages  in  this  interesting  work  than  the 
1  Winter  Studies ; '  but  these  voyagings,  so  rude, 
fatiguing,  and  solitary,  are  mingled  with  many  a  deli- 
cate piece  of  thinking,  many  a  reference  to  the  litera- 
ture she  loved,  many  a  poetical  description  and 
interesting  incident  One  most  remarkable  and 
engaging  feature  I  may  be  permitted  to  point  out ; 
which  is,  that  this  journal  of  travel  is  from  beginning 
to  end  a  record  of  my  aunt's  friendly  interest  in  all 
about  her,  made  delightful  by  the  happy  knack  she 
had  of  winning  confidence  and  affection  in  return. 
Not  a  homely  cottage  innkeeper  on  the  rough  road, 
not  a  driver,  be  it  of  '  baker's  cart'  with  or  without 
springs,  be  it  of  more  ambitious  '  wagon,'  but  has 
his  niche  in  her  memory,  and  most  frequently  his 
story  in  her  pages.  The  chance  emigrant  whom  she 
meets  in  the  stage-coach  at  once  secures  her  atten- 

K   2 


132  ANNA  JAMESON. 

tion,  receiving  from  her  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
some  one  whom  she  thinks  likely  to  serve  him,  and 
an  invitation  to  let  her  know  how  he  fared.  This 
perpetual  stream  of  human  interest  brightens  the 
country  wherein  she  moves.  It  becomes  full,  not 
only  of  beautiful  landscapes,  but  of  a  strange  and 
novel  life,  of  faces  and  firesides  which  we  learn  to 
know.  Things  no  doubt  have  altered  much  in 
Canada  as  elsewhere  during  the  last  forty  years. 
But  the  emigrants  and  the  Indians  of  those  days  are 
all  as  lifelike  in  this  work  as  if  the  story  were  one  of 
the  present  day.1 

During  this  journey,  while  moving  about  among 
so  many  new  scenes,  with  so  many  gleams  of  plea- 
sure among  her  fatigues,  arrangements  were  going 
on  for  her  final  separation  from  her  husband,  and 
the  establishment  of  her  future  independence.  I 
cannot  be  clearly  certain  whether  she  returned  to 
Toronto  at  all,  though  there  seems  a  likelihood  that 
for  a  short  time  she  did  so  ;  but  from  the  time  when 
she  left  that  town  no  further  personal  communica- 
tion took  place  between  the  ill-suited  pair.  All  their 
intercourse  thenceforward  was  carried  on  by  corre- 
spondence, which  grew  less  and  less  frequent,  until 
it  became  the  merest  matter  of  form,  and  ceased 
altogether  some  years  previous  to  Mr.  Jameson's 

1  In  1852  Messrs.  Longman  published  a  reprint,  revised,  and  I 
believe  curtailed,  of  this  book,  under  the  title  of  Rambles  among  the 
Red  Men. 


AMERICA.  133 

demise  in  Canada  in  1854.  Before  her  final  depar- 
ture from  America  early  in  the  year  1838,  legal 
papers  had  been  drawn  up,  assuring  to  Mrs.  Jameson 
an  allowance  of  three  hundred  a  year ;  and  in  a  letter 
dated  Toronto,  September  21,  1837,  in  reply  to  her 
request  for  a  letter  from  her  husband,  specifying 
that  it  was  with  his  full  consent  and  acquiescence 
that  she  left  Toronto  to  reside  at  a  distance,  and 
exonerating  her  from  all  blame  or  reproach  in  the 
matter,  Mr.  Jameson  wrote  : 

MY  DEAR  ANNA, — In  leaving  Canada  to  reside  among 
your  friends  in  England  or  elsewhere,  you  carry  with  you 
my  most  perfect  respect  and  esteem.  My  affection  you 
will  never  cease  to  retain.  Were  it  otherwise  I  should  feel 
less  pain  at  consenting  to  an  arrangement  arising  from  no 
wish  of  mine,  but  which  I  am  compelled  to  believe  is  best 
calculated  for  your  happiness,  and  which  therefore  I  can- 
not but  approve. 

While  these  negotiations  were  pending,  Mrs. 
Jameson  was  staying  in  Massachusetts  and  Pennsyl- 
vania, with  Miss  Sedgwick  at  Stockbridge,  and 
among  other  American  friends  dearly  cherished  in 
memory  long  after  her  return  to  Europe.  On 
December  1 2  she  writes  to  a  friend  : 

I  have  been  on  the  eve  of  departing  for  Europe  during 
the  last  six  weeks,  but  delayed  by  some  legal  papers  and 
writings  which  are  to  settle  my  future  fate  and  income,  &c. 
and  which  are  to  be  signed  and  sealed  before  I  depart. 
When  your  letter  reached  me  I  was  spending  a  few  days 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


at  a  most  beautiful  village  in  New  England,  Stockbridge 
by  name,  with  the  most  distinguished  woman  as  writer 
and  moralist  America  has  yet  produced  —  Miss  Sedgwick. 
She  is  one  who  is  working  gently  but  courageously  for  her 
sex  and  for  humanity,  but  her  best  works  being  calculated 
more  particularly  for  this  country  are  not  likely  to  be 
popular  elsewhere.  Thence  I  went  to  Boston,  where  I 
spent  nearly  a  fortnight  very  pleasantly,  and  saw  much  of 
Dr.  Channing,  the  good,  the  wise,  the  great.  Don't  you 
envy  me  ?  We  will  have  everlasting  talks  of  him  when 
we  meet.  I  heard  him  preach  —  like  an  apostle  !  Of  all 
the  places  I  have  yet  visited  in  this  wide  land,  Boston 
pleases  me  best.  It  seems  to  have  pleased  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau  least.  There  are  fine  things  in  that  book  of  hers, 
are  there  not  ?  Though  some  of  the  people  here  would,  I 
believe,  burn  her  alive  at  the  stake,  there  are  others,  the 
most  conscientious  a»d  the  best  informed,  who  allow  all 
its  value  and  all  its  truth. 

I  may  here  put  in  an  interesting  little  episode 
about  one  of  the  local  preachers  of  original  character 
and  primitive  eloquence,  so  characteristic  of  America, 
whom  she  met  on  this  visit  to  Boston. 

When  I  was  at  Boston  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Father  Taylor,  the  founder  of  the  Sailors'  Home  in  that 
city.  He  was  considered  as  the  apostle  of  the  seamen, 
and  I  was  full  of  veneration  for  him  as  the  enthusiastic 
teacher  and  philanthropist.  But  it  Is  not  of  his  virtues  or 
his  labours  that  I  wish  to  speak.  He  struck  me  in  another 
way  —  as  a  poet  ;  he  was  a  born  poet.  Until  he  was  five- 
and-twenty  he  had  never  learned  to  read,  and  his  reading 
afterwards  was  confined  to  such  books  as  aided  him  in  his 
ministry.  He  remained  an  illiterate  man  to  the  last,  but 


AMERICA.  135 


his  mind  was  teeming  with  spontaneous  imagery,  allusion, 
metaphor.  One  might  almost  say  of  him — 

He  could  not  ope 
His  mouth,  but  out  there  flew  a  trope. 

These  images  and  allusions  had  a  freshness,  an  originality, 
and  sometimes  an  oddity,  that  was  quite  startling;  and 
they  were  generally,  but  not  always,  borrowed  from  his 
former  profession — that  of  a  sailor. 

One  day  we  met  him  in  the  street  He  told  us  in  a 
melancholy  voice  that  he  had  been  burying  a  child,  and 
alluded  almost  with  emotion  to  the  number  of  infants  he 
had  buried  lately.  Then,  after  a  pause,  striking  his  stick 
on  the  ground  and  looking  upwards,  he  added  :  '  There 
must  be  a  storm  brewing  when  the  doves  are  all  flying 
aloft.' 

One  evening,  in  conversation  with  me,  he  compared 
the  English  and  the  Americans  to  Jacob's  vine,  which, 
planted  on  one  side  of  the  wall,  grew  over  it  and  hung  its 
boughs  and  clusters  on  the  other  side,  '  but  it  is  still  the 
same  vine,  nourished  from  the  same  root.' 

•  ••••••• 

In  his  chapel  all  the  principal  seats  in  front  of  the 
pulpit  and  down  the  centre  aisle  were  filled  by  the  sailors. 
We  ladies  and  gentlemen  and  strangers  whom  curiosity 
had  brought  to  hear  him  were  ranged  on  each  side;  he 
would  on  no  account  allow  us  to  take  the  best  places.  On 
one  occasion,  as  he  had  been  denouncing  hypocrisy,  luxury 
and  vanity,  and  other  vices  of  more  civilised  life,  he  said 
emphatically  :  '  I  don't  mean  you  before  me  here,'  looking 
at  the  sailors ;  '  I  believe  you  are  wicked  enough,  but 
honest  fellows  in  some  sort,  for  you  profess  less,  not  more 
than  you  practise.  But  I  mean  to  touch  starboard  and 
larboard  there ! '  stretching  out  both  hands  with  the  fore- 


136  ANNA  JAMESON. 

fingers  extended,  and  looking  at  us  on  either  side  till  we 
quailed. 

The  friendship  referred  to  on  a  previous  page, 
which  my  aunt  formed  with  Miss  Sedgwick  at  this 
period,  was  one  of  the  warmest  of  her  life.  The  few 
letters  of  their  correspondence  which  have  fallen  into 
my  hands  are  full  of  expressions  of  affection,  and  show 
a  confidence  on  Mrs.  Jameson's  part  in  her  friend's 
interest  in  all  that  concerns  her,  which  proves  how 
entirely  their  sympathy  was  mutual.  The  first  I 
find  is  the  following,  dated  from  Philadelphia,  where 
she  was  awaiting  a  summons  to  New  York.  It  is 
dated  'from  Fanny's1  writing-table  this  22nd  of 
December/  and  bears  testimony  to  the  rapid  growth 
of  the  friendship  which  was  maintained  intact 
through  a  long  series  of  years  between  Anna  Jame- 
son and  Catherine  Sedgwick : 
i  •  •  • 

I  cannot  allow  your  niece  (Miss  Watson)  to  go  to  New 
York  without  a  few  lines  from  me.  Though  the  lines  must 
be  few  and  not  worth  much — not  worth  postage  at  least — 
yet  they  will  tell  you  that  I  love  you  and  think  of  you, 
and  never  do  think  of  you  without  feeling  glad  and  grate- 
ful to  have  known  you,  to  have  you  to  think  of  and  talk 
of — for  we  talk  of  you,  Fanny  and  I,  with  cordial  sym- 
pathy, and  wish  for  you.  My  visit  here,  a  visit  to  be  long 
remembered,  is  drawing  to  a  close.  I  only  wait  the 
arrival  of  some  papers  from  Toronto,  retarded  by  the  late 


1  Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble. 


AMERICA.  "137 

events  in  Canada,  to  return  to  New  York  and  embark  for 
England.  I  was  going  to  say  for  home,  but  I  have  no 
home.  And  yet  I  have  ;  for  where  my  sweet  mother 
is,  there  must  my  heart  be  also,  and  there  my  home.  .  .  . 
We  are  just  going  to  town,  and  here  is  the  carriage,  and 
so  farewell,  and  God  bless  you  ;  keep  me  a  little  wee 
corner  in  that  good  heart  How  full  it  must  be,  how 
crammed  and  crowded,  unless  it  has  an  india-rubber  ca- 
pacity of  extension — has  it  ?  Put  me  somewhere,  stick  me 
behind  the  door,  anywhere  ;  but  let  me  in,  et  puis  nous 
verrons. 

From  on  board  the  •'  Quebec,'  late  in  the  month 
of  February,  Mrs.  Jameson  again  wrote  to  Miss 
Sedgwick : 

I  told  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  if  during  the  voyage  I 
could  hold  pen  or  pencil  or  scribble  a  word,  I  would  send 
you  my  blessing  from  the  midst  of  the  great  deep ;  and 
from  the  deep  of  my  heart  I  do  send  it  you.  When  I 
think  of  you,  and  of  all  I  gained  in  your  affection,  and  all 
I  lost  in  your  society,  my  heart  alternately  swells  with 
gratitude  and  sinks  with  regret.  Oh,  come  to  England  ! 
but  don't  come  in  February.  Our  voyage  is  likely  to  be 
short,  but  it  has  been  one  of  unmingled  suffering  ;  first  we 
were  driven  half-way  across  the  Atlantic  in  a  gale  of  wind, 
varied  only  now  and  then  by  a  hurricane — not  merely  what 
we  landsfolk  call  such,  but  what  the  captain  himself  styled 
a  '  hurricane,  blowing  awfully,  blowing  like  fury'  ;  without 
a  single  sail,  for  two  sails  had  been  blown  to  tatters,  we 
drove  on  before  the  blast  at  the  rate  of  ten  to  eleven  knots 
an  hour.  It  was  fearful.  Yesterday  and  to-day  I  am 
able  to  lie  on  the  sofa,  and  just  write  these  words  from  the 
corner  you  in  some  sort  consecrated  to  me.  I  am  obliged 


138  ANNA  JAMESON. 

to  lay  down  my  pen  and  paper  at  the  end  of  every  line, 
and  make  but  a  bad  hand  of  it. 

The  last  time  I  was  on  deck  was  the  day  on  which  I 
parted  from  you.  About  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  the 
sickly  lethargy  was  fast  creeping  over  me,  I  was  told  we 
were  just  losing  sight  of  the  American  shores  ;  so  I  crawled 
up  and  took  one  last  look  as  they  faded  away  under  the 
western  sun,  and  in  my  heart  I  stretched  out  my  arms  to 
you  for  a  last  embrace,  and  blessed  that  land  because  it 
was  your  land.  Of  the  next  fourteen  days  I  shall  say 
nothing.  .  .  . 

God  bless  you  for  thinking  of  '  Rory  O'More ' !  It  is 
delicious.  '  As  to  its  merits  as  a  work  I  cannot  speak,  not 
having  my  critical  wits  about  me.  I  only  know  that  I 
enjoyed  it  when  I  could  have  read  nothing  else,  when,  as 
Rory  himself  would  say,  '  the  laugh  and  the  life  and  the 
spake  were  out  of  me  quite  entirely.'  At  least  the  laugh  and 
the  life  were  brought  back.  I  do  not  enter  into  all  the 
merit  of  the  '  Pickwick  Papers/  I  understand  the  humour 
and  the  merit  without  sympathising  with  either,  and, 
though  I  laugh,  it  is  not  the  heart's  laugh  ;  while  in  the 
extravagant  fun  and  real  racy  Irish  wit  of  '  Rory  O'More,' 
there  is  something  which  stirs  my  Irish  blood  and  moves 
my  Irish  sympathies  in  spite  of  all  its  sins  against  taste.  As 
for  this  Yankee  book,  '  Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,'  it  is  of 
a  very  different  class  ;  it  has  amused  me  infinitely,  and 
displeased  me  sovereignly.  I  dislike  the  spirit  in  which  it 
is  written,  it  plays  discord  upon  mine ;  yet  surely  it  is  a 
clever  book.  Now  to-day  I  have  finished  the  'Letters 
from  Palmyra/  which  have  really  delighted  me.  It  is  an 
elegant  and  an  eloquent  book,  but  elegance  is  its  chief 
characteristic  ;  there  is  rather  a  want  of  power  and  pathos. 
...  I  only  detected  two  americanisms,  shall  I  call  them 
so  ?  Who  is  this  Mr.  William  Ware  ?  I  must  ask  Mr. 


AMERICA.  139 


Dewey  to  tell  me  something  about  him.  You  see  I  cannot 
help  thinking  aloud  to  you,  though  I  can  scarce  hold  the 
pen. 

March  I. — God  be  praised  !  we  are  on  the  English 
shore,  but  I  am  so  ill  yesterday  and  to-day  I  cannot 
go  on  deck.  We  have  what  is  expressively  called  '  English 
weather/  that  is,  a  dull  leaden  sky,  a  foggy  atmosphere, 
and  a  drizzling  rain.  It  reminds  me  of  one  of  Marryat's 
stories  of  an  old  quartermaster,  who,  returning  from  a  three 
years'  voyage  to  the  East  Indies,  and  approaching  the 
English  shore  in  weather  such  as  this,  looked  up  into  the 
dull  sky  and  hazy  atmosphere,  and,  sniffing  up  the  damp 
air  and  buttoning  his  pea-jacket  over  his  chest,  exclaimed 
with  exultation,  '  Ay,  this  is  something  like — none  of  your 
d d  blue  skies  here  ! ' 

Oh,  horrible  !  within  twenty-four  hours  of  Portsmouth 
and  a  dead  calm — we  are  motionless.  But  to-morrow  night 
at  farthest  we  hope  to  land. 

Mrs.  Jameson  reached  England  early  in  the 
spring.  The  best  account  I  can  give  of  her  con- 
dition and  state  of  mind  will  be  in  her  own  words, 
from  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Noel  from  London, 
on  May  26,  1838  : 

I  left  America  in  great  anxiety  about  my  father,  but 
have  found  him  living  and  not  materially  worse,  although 
declining  gradually.  After  my  return  I  was  ill  for  some 
weeks ;  I  am  now  as  much  recovered  as  I  can  ever  hope 
to  be,  but  my  existence  is  no  more  the  same.  Not  that  I 
mean  to  sit  down  and  despair,  but  there  is  nothing  left  to 
think  about,  or  hope  for,  or  care  for  as  regards  myself; 
however,  I  must  care  for  my  sisters,  and  help  to  rupport 


140  ANNA  JAMESON. 

my  father  and  mother,  so  I  work.  I  brought  with  me 
from  Canada  a  diary  I  kept  there  about  all  manner  of 
things—  notes  on  my  German  studies  during  the  winter ; 
the  politics,  society,  and  scenery  of  Canada ;  the  Indian 
natives,  and  my  adventures  on  Lake  Huron — all  jumbled 
together.  My  intention  was  to  have  used  these  notes  only 
as  material,  but  I  have  been  persuaded  to  print  the  diary 
in  its  original  state,  only  with  a  few  omissions ;  and  after 
a  little  struggle  with  myself  I  acquiesced.  The  truth  is,  I 
have  not  time,  courage,  heart,  or  spirits  to  write  a  sensible 
well-digested  book ;  so  they  may  just  take  my  scraps  of 
thought,  and  make  the  best  or  worst  of  them.  How  con- 
temptible, frivolous,  old-fashioned,  superficial,  it  will  appear 
to  your  deep-thinking  Germans — they  who  thought  De 
Stael  commonplace  and  superficial — and  what  am  I  to  her  ? 
Well,  never  mind,  it  must  go. 


</  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:     141 


CHAPTER  VI. 

'  I    HAVE    LOVE   AND    WORK   ENOUGH.' 

MRS.  JAMESON  returned  to  the  house  of  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Bate,  on  her  arrival  from  Canada.  The  follow- 
ing letter  addressed  to  her  beloved  American  friend, 
and  which  indeed  is  a  little  antecedent  in  date  to 
the  one  given  on  the  previous  page,  is  interesting 
both  on  account  of  the  conversation  recorded  in  it, 
and  as  giving  a  glimpse  of  her  own  domestic  life  : 

7,  Mortimer  Street :  April  18,  1838. 

No,  I  cannot  let  this  packet  sail  without  a  few  lines 
from  me,  though  it  be  only  to  tell  you  that  as  yet 
I  have  not  one  line  from  you  ;  and  as  Miss  Fitzhugh 
has  a  letter  from  Fanny  Butler  of  the  Qth  of  March,  in 
which  you  are  not  mentioned,  what  am  I  to  think  ?  Are 
you  not  yet  with  her  ?  Where  are  you  ?  How  are  you  ? 
I  will  believe  all  that  is  most  improbable  and  impos- 
sible, but  I  will  never  believe  that  you  have  forgotten 
me.  I  have  heard  from  all  my  friends  except  yourself — 
my  dearest  friend  in  that  far-off  New  World — and  should 
better  endure  any  other  exception.  Do  write  to  me.  I  am 
now  settled  with  my  sister  Louisa  in  Mortimer  Street,  and 
am  trying  to  busy  myself  about  my  book  ;  but  I  find  it 
difficult  to  get  my  mind  together  for  a  continuous  effort. 


142  ANNA  JAMESON. 

The  other  day  I  saw  Joanna  Baillie  ;  she  spoke  of  you  with 
a  kindness  and  respect  which  was  delightful  to  me,  and 
looks  forward  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  when  you 
come  to  England.  She  spoke  of  the  pleasure  she  had  re- 
ceived from  '  Redwood  ; '  and  I  am  to  send  her  in  all  haste 
your  last  works.  I  was  glad  to  find  her  looking  better 
and  younger  than  when  I  left  England.  As  I  had  been 
crying  my  eyes  out  over  the  last  volume  of  Scott's  Life, 
our  conversation  turned  naturally  on  that  subject.  She 
said  she  was  glad  the  public  would  at  last  do  some  justice 
to  Lady  Scott ;  she  said  that  at  the  time  Scott  married,  he 
was  not  in  person  a  man  to  please  a  lady's  eye,  and  had 
written  nothing  except  one  or  two  ballads.  He  had  neither 
fortune,  fame,  or  personal  advantages,  yet  Lady  Scott,  then 
young,  very  pretty,  and  very  much  admired,  had  sense 
enough  to  distinguish  him,  love  him,  and  marry  him  ! 
*  She  was  no  common-place  woman,'  added  Miss  Agnes 
Baillie  ;  '  she  managed  his  house  admirably,  and  made  it 
agreeable  to  his  friends  ;  she  was  an  excellent  wife.'  All  this 
it  gave  me  pleasure  to  hear  from  such  a  source.  You  have 
now,  I  suppose,  read  the  whole  work ;  there  is  not  such  a 
biography  in  the  world.  They  say  Lockhart  is  going  to  be 
married  again  to  a  Miss  Alexander ;  but  I  do  not  give  you 
this  as  certain.  I  am  living  on  quietly  ;  as  yet  it  requires 
an  effort — a  strong  and  painful  effort — to  go  into  society, 
nor  have  I  been  anywhere  yet,  except  last  night  at  Mrs. 
Fitzhugh's  to  meet  Mr.  and  Miss  Sully,  whom  I  think  I 
shall  like.  My  niece,  little  Gerardine,  talks  as  familiarly 
of  Miss  Sedgwick  as  if  she  had  known  you  all  her  life. 
She  thinks  you  must  be  so  good  to  send  her  and  her 
little  sister  such  nice  books.  I  wish  you  could  see  the  riot 
they  make  on  my  bed  in  the  morning,  when  Gerardine 
talks  of  Richard  the  First,  the  hero  of  her  infantine  fancy, 
whose  very  name  makes  her  blush  with  emotion  ;  and  little 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:     143 

Dolly  Dumpling  (by  baptism  and  the  grace  of  God  Camilla 
Ottilie)  insists  upon  reciting  '  Little  Jack  Horner,'  who  is 
}ier  hero.  They  are  my  comfort  and  delight.  Give  my 
love  to  your  dear  Kate  and  all,  all  of  you.  My  heart  must 
be  kilt  quite  entirely,  as  cold  as  death  can  make  it,  before 
it  forgets  the  Sedgwicks.  O,  come  to  England !  I  am 
getting  some  books  together  to  send  by  Captain  Huttle- 
done,  whom  I  know  personally ;  if  I  do  not  send  a  package 
by  one  I  know,  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  pay  duty,  and 
it  is  not  worth  while.  Now  dear  friend,  dear  Catherine, 
farewell.  Perhaps  some  of  these  days,  if  you  have  patience 
with  me,  I  shall  be  able  to  send  you  a  letter  worth  reading, 
but  meantime  do  write  to  me.  ANNA  J. 

The  following  letter,  addressed  to  the  same  cor- 
respondent, is  interesting  from  its  reference  to  the 
most  important  public  event  of  the  moment : 

London  :  June  30,  1838. 

Yesterday  I  saw  your  friend  Dr.  Potter,  and  had  at 
least  an  hour's  talk  with  him  ;  he  has  made  a  very  agree- 
able impression  on  us  all.  I  have  seen  several  Americans 
within  these  two  days,  and  am  much  amused  by  their  re- 
marks on  the  coronation  of  our  young  Queen.  The  deport- 
ment of  the  people,  the  excellent  order,  the  good  feeling 
prevalent  everywhere  seem  to  have  struck  your  country- 
men ;  the  police,  as  vigilant  as  good-humoured,  were  pre- 
sent to  protect,  not  to  coerce,  and  the  military  added  to  the 
splendour  of  the  spectacle  without  infringing  on  the  liberty 
of  the  people.  My  heart  was  with  the  mob  all  day.  As 
to  the  Queen,  poor  child,  she  went  through  her  part  beau- 
tifully ;  and  when  she  returned,  looking  pale  and  tremulous, 
crowned  and  holding  her  sceptre  in  a  manner  and  attitude 
which  said  '  I  have  it,  and  none  shall  wrest  it  from  me ! ' 
even  Carlyle,  who  was  standing  near  me,  uttered  with 


144  ANNA  JAMESON. 

emotion  a  blessing  on  her  head,  and  he,  you  know,  thinks 
kings  and  queens  rather  superfluous.  All  the  rest,  if  you  feel 
any  curiosity  on  the  subject,  you  will  learn  in  the  news- 
papers ;  only  one  thing  which  has  not  yet  reached  these 
seems  to  have  made  a  strong  impression.  The  premier 
Baron,  old  Lord  Rolle,  is  more  than  eighty-five,  and  on 
ascending  the  steps  of  the  throne  to  do  homage  he 
stumbled  from  age  and  agitation.  The  Queen,  forgetting 
her  dignity  and  her  royal  state,  started  from  her  thrcne  and 
stretched  out  both  her  hands  to  help  him.  This  little 
action  against  all  rule  of  court  etiquette  called  down  a 
thunder  of  applause.  You  see  what  it  is  to  be  a  queen  ! 
A  woman  with  the  common  feelings  of  courtesy  and  kind- 
ness is  nothing  less  than  an  angel ! 

Notwithstanding  the  courage  with  which  she 
faced  the  loneliness  of  her  life  and  the  failure  of  all 
her  hopes  of  personal  happiness,  it  is  evident  that 
the  period  after  Mrs.  Jameson's  visit  to  America 
was  full  of  the  disturbed  and  restless  pain  of  a 
soul  scarcely  able  to  reconcile  itself  to  the  burden 
which  it  is  forced  to  resume,  yet  too  proud  and 
highspirited  to  acknowledge  its  trouble  save  in  the 
deepest  confidence  of  friendship.  A  record  of  this 
time  of  despondency  will  be  found  in  the  following 
letter,  also  addressed  to  Miss  Sedgwick  : 

Windsor  :  August  20,  1838. 

On  the  very  day  I  left  London  to  take  up  my  residence 
here,  Mr.  Putnam  brought  me  your  letter.  You  are  the 
dearest,  kindest  creature  in  the  world — that  is  most  cer- 
tain— thus  to  find  time  to  write  to  me  in  the  midst  of  your 


1 1  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:      145 

anxieties,  distresses,  and  avocations ;  but  I  believe  that  I 
am  grateful ;  and  then  your  letters,  no  matter  how  short  or 
how  long,  are  sure  to  contain  some  word  or  words  which 
lie  on  my  heart  like  balm  for  hours  and  days  afterwards. 
You  have  this  instinct  of  benevolence  and  affection  in  a 
degree  that  no  other  possesses,  no  other  that  I  have  ever 
known ;  how  can  I  but  love  you  dearly  ?  .  .  .  I  cannot  go 
to  Germany  to  Ottilie,  because  my  duties  keep  me  here  at 
present.  Mrs.  Austin,  whom  I  respect  and  love,  and  in 
whose  society  I  find  pleasure  and  sympathy,  has  the  health 
and  interests  of  a  hypochondriac  husband  and  the  education 
of  a  daughter  on  her  hands.  I  have  no  right  to  her  time 
and  thoughts  ;  .  .  .  and,  worse  than  all !  you  are  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  I  have  known  you  only  to 
feel  how  hard  it  is  to  be  without  you  ;  yet  do  not  think  I 
repine,  for  in  truth  I  do  not.  I  am  not  so  insensible  or 
ungrateful  ...  a  more  affectionate  and  devoted  family  no 
one  could  possess.  ...  In  London,  with  a  large  and  brilliant 
circle  of  acquaintance,  I  led  a  distracted  heartless  life.  I 
thought  it  right  to  go  on  trying  to  keep  up  certain  social 
interests  and  tastes,  and  I  tried  in  vain  ;  my  heart  seemed  to 
be  drying  up  and  withering  away  ;  so  I  reflected  for  a  week 
or  two,  and  came  here  to  Windsor.  I  thought  at  first  of 
going  to  Hampstead  and  taking  a  house  near  Joanna  Baillie, 
but  I  could  not  find  one ;  and  moreover,  as  they  say  the 
little  cat  that  has  been  scalded  dreads  fire  and  water,  so  I 
dreaded,  with  an  absolutely  morbid  terror,  any  new  interest, 
any  new  object,  and  any  new  liaison,  which  might  become 
habitual,  and  therefore  Hampstead  was  too  near  London, 
and  too  near  that  excellent  Joanna  Baillie,  and  too  near 
one  or  two  other  people  who  are  flatteringly  partial  to  my 
society  while  I  do  not  care  for  theirs.  So  I  cut  my  tether, 
and  I  came  down  to  Windsor,  where  I  have  taken  a  little 
lodging  on  the  verge  of  the  Great  Park,  and  at  the  foot  of 

L 


i46  ANNA  JAMESON. 

the  hill  on  which  the  Castle  stands.  It  is  in  a  very  small 
house,  or  rather  cottage,  kept  by  a  superlatively  tidy  and 
obliging  woman  ;  and  here  I  dwell,  work,  write,  speculate, 
and  am  better  certainly  than  at  any  time  since  my  arrival. 
And  so  much  for  my  autobiography — enough  of  self  for  the 
present.  I  am  glad  that  I  can  fancy  you,  with  all  your 
present  surroundings.  The  little  view  of  your  brother 
Theodore's  house,  '  The  house  in  which  Catherine  Sedg- 
wick  was  born,'  is  before  me  ;  also  the  little  view  of  the 
hills  from  the  window  of  the  inn  at  Lenox,  where  we  used 
to  sit,  and  the  two  pretty  views  which  kind  Mr.  Minst 
gave  me  ;  and  I  look  at  them  often,  and  think  how  much 
I  have  gained  in  knowing  you  all,  dear  people  that  you 
are.  When  you  come  to  England,  may  not  I  also  help  to 
minister  to  your  brother's  comfort  ?  Among  the  visions  to 
which,  child-like,  I  sometimes  yield  up  my  fancy  when 
alone  I  look  up  to  those  vast  towers  of  our  kings,  is  one 
especially,  of  having  you  all  here  at  Windsor.  To  come 
down  as  strangers  do,  to  take  a  hasty  dinner  and  see  over 
the  state  rooms  and  pictures,  is  not  to  be  thought  of. 
Windsor  is  like  nothing  but  itself  in  the  world.  And 
though  you  are  a  democrat,  the  gods  have  made  you 
poetical.  Imagine  our  pretty  young  Queen,  with  all  her 
courtly  suite,  pouring  out  of  the  great  gates  of  the  Castle, 
on  most  beautiful  horses,  and  sweeping  through  the 
avenues  and  glades  of  the  forest  here,  the  'Windsor  Forest' 
which  is  the  classic  ground  of  our  Shakespeare  as  well  as 
our  Edwards  and  Henrys.  It  sounds  well,  does  it  not  ? 
and  really  it  is  a  most  splendid  sight.  As  to  the  Queen, 
she  really  plays  the  part  to  admiration,  '  poor  little  girl !  ' 
as  'Carlyle  calls  her.  I  never  look  at  her  but  with  an 
interest  in  which  some  pity  is  blended.  She  is,  after  all, 
but  a  pageant,  an  anomaly  ;  and  with  so  much  of  kindness 
of  heart  and  sensibility,  what  is  to  become  of  her  ?  A 


' I  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:     147 

great  many  anecdotes  of  her  inttrieur>  which  reach  me 
privately,  give  me  the  highest  idea  of  her  heart  and 
sense. 

I  can  give  you  no  literary  news,  for  I  read  nothing, 
and  my  pleasure  in  reading  is  not  what  it  was,  I  have  no 
curiosity  nor  sympathy  yet,  but  it  will  come  back,  I  sup- 
pose. I  began  to  read  Prescott's  '  History  of  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,'  which  is  admirable.  With  what  do  you  now 
amuse  your  dear  brother  ?  What  are  you  doing  yourself,  or 
about  to  do  ?  Have  you  yet  begun  the  tale  you  mentioned 
to  me,  which  is  to  be  next  in  your  series  ?  Can  I  make  any 
arrangement  with  my  publisher  for  you,  by  which  you 
might  have  some  share  of  the  profits  of  the  English  edi- 
tions of  your  books  ?  You  are  very  popular  here.  I  sent 
you,  or  rather  Kate,  the  third  edition  of  one  of  them,  for 
I  thought  it  would  please  her  ;  dear  sunshiny  Kate !  I 
wish  I  had  her  to  run  over  Windsor  Castle  with  me.  How 
I  should  like  to  see  what  impression  these  things,  con- 
secrated in  our  imagination,  foolishly  perhaps,  would  make 
on  a  young,  fresh,  pure,  and  reflecting  mind  like  hers  ! 

What  you  tell  me   of  F pains  me  ;  send  me  better 

news  of  her.     Why,   my   dearest  friend,  should  this  fair 

earth  of  ours  be  a  prison  for  a  spirit  like  F "s  ?    There 

is   so  much  to  enjoy,   to   do,  '  to  be,1  though  much  (how 

much)  to  suffer.     But  F will  and  must  have  trials ; 

and  if  they  are  proportioned  to  her  strength  and  her  spirit 
and  her  almost  unequalled  gifts,  what  then  ?  '  I  see,  as 
from  a  tower,  the  end  of  all.'  My  love,  my  kindest  love  to 
all  your  dear  circle,  chickens  and  all. — Your  affectionate 

ANNA. 

In  a  letter  to  her  valued  correspondent,  Mr. 
Noel,  written  from  Windsor,  we  find  the  melancholy 
and  somewhat  disturbed  solitude  of  her  retirement 

L  2 


i48  ANNA  JAMESON. 

varied  by  negotiations  and  arrangements  of  a  less 
personal  character.  Her  friend  had  lately  married 
an  Austrian  lady,  and  the  letters  written  subsequently 
to  this  marriage  contain  a  constant  record  of  mutual 
kindnesses  and  unfailing  sympathy,  my  aunt  having 
apparently  constituted  herself  a  sort  of  London 
agent  for  the  young  couple  to  whom  she  had  so 
much  attached  herself,  sending  them  newspapers, 
books,  and  private  news,  consulting  with  them  about 
their  prospects,  and  occasionally  lending  her  aid  to 
some  literary  undertaking.  Nothing  could  be  more 
delightful  than  the  evidence  faintly  shadowed  forth 
in  these  letters  (for  Mrs.  Jameson  was  as  much  the 
reverse  of  what  is  commonly  called  '  gushing '  as 
it  is  possible  to  imagine)  of  the  mutual  sympathy, 
support,  and  constantly  interchanged  good  offices 
of  this  trio  of  faithful  friends.  Just  at  this  time  Mr. 
Noel  had  occupied  his  leisure  with  a  translation 
from  the  German,  for  the  publication  of  which  Mrs 
Jameson  entered  into  treaty  with  the  publisher  of 
her  own  popular  volumes.  This  and  her  own 
Canadian  book  appear  in  her  correspondence  with 
Mr.  Noel  in  the  later  autumn  of  this  year. 

Saunders  &  Ottley  will,  if  you  like  it,  publish  the 
paper  on  Rubens  (under  the  title  of  '  Peter  Paul  Rubens, 
his  Life  and  Genius,  from  the  German  of  Dr.  Waagen, 
author  of  "  Art  and  Artists  in  England  "  ')  in  a  series  of 
articles  in  the  '  Metropolitan ; '  and  if  in  this  form  it  attract 
attention,  they  will  subsequently  publish  the  whole  at  their 


< I  HAVE  LOVE  AND   WORK  ENOUGH:     149 

own  risk,  dividing  the  profits,  if  any,  fairly  with  you.  I 
would  look  over  and  correct  it  for  the  press,  but  after 
January  20  I  shall  be  busied  with  my  preparations  for 
Germany.  I  write  in  haste,  for  I  am  going  to  leave  London 
to-day,  and  do  not  return  till  January  16  or  17.  I  am 
going  down  to  Lord  Hatherton's. 

My  book,  entitled  '  Winter  Studies  and  Summer 
Rambles,'  is  out  this  month,  and,  I  am  glad  to  say, 
my  success  is  entire,  and  I  have  never  been  so  popular 
as  now.  There  have  been  one  or  two  most  brutal  attacks 
upon  me  personally  from  personal  motives,  which  have 
only  called  forth  stronger  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
approbation.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  letters  I  have 
received  is  from  Lady  Byron,  who,  poor  soul,  is  suffering 
very  much. 

Another  pleasant  letter  on  this  subject  my  aunt 
received  from  Miss  Martineau,  who  writes  with 
friendly  enthusiasm  : 

I  feel  so  deeply  the  support  and  delight  of  your  sym- 
pathy, as  shown  in  your  Canada  book,  that  I  acknowledge 
your  right  to  all  my  thoughts  on  that  set  of  subjects.  I 
am  always  recurring  in  thought  to  that  book.  When  will 
your  '  Princess  Amelia  '  appear  ? 

Another  tribute  of  approbation  came  to  her  in 
the  charming  old-lady  letter  of  Joanna  Baillie,  dated 
Hampstead,  December  17,  with  its  pretty  formality 
and  stateliness  : — 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — A  friend  of  mine  sent  me  the  first 
volume  of  your  '  Winter  Studies,  &c.,  in  Canada,'  thinking 
I  should  be  gratified  by  the  flattering  and  friendly  notice 
taken  of  me  in  its  pages  ;  and  truly  she  thought  right,  for 


ISO  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  am  very  much  gratified,  and  I  thank  you  with  all  my 
heart  for  speaking  a  good  word  for  me  in  my  old  age. 
Some  days  after  that,  a  copy  of  the  book  was  sent  to  me 
from  Cavendish  Square,  where  it  had  been  lying  I  don't 
know  how  long  ;  there  is  no  writing  upon  it  of  any  kind  to 
say  who  sent  it.  I  dare  not  think  it  came  from  yourself, 
for  you  have  so  many  friends  who  have  a  far  better  right 
to  expect  such  a  mark  of  your  favour,  that  it  would  be 
quite  unreasonable  to  do  so.  But  I  may  at  any  rate  thank 
you  for  the  agreeable  amusement  of  the  curious  and  in- 
teresting information  we  have  received  from  it.  You  make 
the  reader,  both  as  to  your  internal  world  and  external, 
live  along  with  yourself,  and  an  excellent  companion  we 
find  you.  Your  book  did  my  sister  a  world  of  good,  and 
your  animated  observations  and  descriptions  delighted  her. 
I  have  been  delighted  too  as  far  as  I  have  read,  and  feel 
that  I  have  much  pleasure  still  in  reserve.  Again  let  me 
thank  you  heartily,  and  believe  me  very  truly  and  grate- 
fully yours,  J.  BAILLIE. 

Upon  the  same  subject,  which  evidently  occupied 
much  of  her  thoughts,  is  the  following  letter,  written 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Windsor,  to  her  sister 
Charlotte,  thanking  her 

for  the  letter  dictated  by  my  dear  father,  and  the  ad- 
ditions from  yourself.  It  gave  me  real  pleasure.  Papa's 
approbation  is  expressed  with  as  much  elegance  as  affec- 
tion. Mrs.  Procter  writes  me  that  the  book  is  universally 
relished,  and  says,  '  A  fig  for  reviewers.'  '  The  men,'  she 
says,  '  are  much  alarmed  by  certain  speculations  about 
women  ;  and,'  she  adds,  '  well  they  may  be,  for  when  the 
horse  and  ass  begin  to  think  and  argue,  adieu  to  riding 
and  driving.'  Her  letter  is  very  amusing  and  comical.  I 


' I  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH.'      151 

was  going -to  Miss  Mitford  last  week,  but  I  had  an  express 
to  say  her  father  was  seized  with  a  sudden  and  dangerous 
illness.  I  am  afraid  the  good  old  man  (who  is  seventy- 
eight)  will  certainly  die,  and  as  she  has  been  his  sole  com- 
panion and  support  for  years,  I  am  very  sorry  for  her. 

I  may  conclude  the  record  of  this  year  by  another 
letter  addressed  to  Miss  Sedgwick,  and  marked  by 
that  lady  as  '  noteworthy.' 

Sunninghill,  Berkshire:  December  15,1838. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Your  letter  (dated  October  23) 
reached  me  December  5.  I  am  thankful  that  it  reached 
me  at  all,  considering  what  tempests  it  encountered  on  its 
way  ;  but  when  I  look  at  the  date,  it  is  with  a  sort  of  pang 
at  the  idea  of  the  time  and  the  distance  which  separates 
us.  I  can  truly  say  that  the  hope  of  seeing  you  in  England 
has  become  the  single  bright  spot  in  my  clouded  future ; 
there  is  nothing  else  to  which  I  look  forward  with  absolute 
unmingled  pleasure ;  everything  besides  is  in  some  way 
mixed  up  with  doubt  and  pain.  I  read  your  dear  kind 
letter  during  a  sojourn  in  London.  I  was  there  about 
three  weeks,  as  restless  and  unhappy  as  heretofore,  and 
glad  to  return  to  my  little  lodging  at  Windsor  and  my 
solitude.  After  a  fortnight  spent  alone,  I  came  over  here 
to  spend  a  week  or  ten  days  with  a  family  of  rich  people, 
who  have  a  fine  place  in  a  lovely  country  ;  but  here  I  am 
again  a  prey  to  the  same  painful  influences,  and  all  is  so 
uncongenial  around  me.  But  pray  do  not  think  that  I 
voluntarily  throw  up  the  game  of  life ;  indeed  I  do  not, 
and  you  shall  see  when  you  come  over  how  cheerfully  I 
can  look  upon  the  world.  Only  I  do  not  like  what  is  called 
society.  You  have  written  me  a  dear  sweet  homily,  so  like 
yourself.  I  read  it,  almost  fancying  your  kind  eyes  looking 
into  mine. 


152  ANNA  JAMESON. 

What  shall  I  say  now  of  myself?  You  beguile  me 
into  most  intolerable  egotism.  At  this  moment  I  have 
fame  and  praise,  for  my  name  is  in  every  newspaper  ;  and 
I  have  a  dear  family  who  truly  love  me,  and  some  excel- 
lent friends  and  a  list  of  acquaintance  anyone  might  envy  ; 
but  in  the  whole  wide  world  I  have  no  companion.  The  two 
or  three  with  whom  I  could  have  companionship  are  re- 
moved far  from  me.  All  that  I  do,  think,  feel,  plan,  or 
endure,  it  is  alone.  Now  this  unhealthy  craving  after*sym- 
pathy,  with  a  fastidiousness  which  makes  me  shut  up  from 
all  sympathy  which  is  not  precisely  that  which  I  like  and 
wish  for,  is,  after  all,  one  of  the  phases  of  disease,  and 
as  such  I  must  treat  it.  You  think  I  am  not  religious 
enough.  I  fear  you  are  right ;  for,  if  I  were,  God  would 
be  to  me  all  I  want,  replace  all  I  regret  thus  selfishly  and 
weakly,  and  more,  if  to  believe  and  trust  implicitly  in  the 
goodness  of  God  were  enough  ;  but  apparently  it  is  not, 
and  my  resignation  is  that  which  I  suppose  a  culprit  feels 
when  irrevocable  sentence  of.  death  is  pronounced — a  submis- 
sion to  bitter  necessity  which  he  tries  to  render  dignified 
in  appearance,  that  those  who  love  him  may  not  be  pained 
or  shamed.  I  am  afraid  it  is  thus,  and  not  what  it  ought 
to  be  ;  only,  my  dear,  dear  friend,  pray  believe  that  I  am 
not  cold  or  bitter,  nor  negligent  of  such  duties  as  are 
around  me.  All  your  letter  is  delightful,  like  all  your 
letters ;  may  they  be  remembered,  every  word  of  them, 
with  your  good  deeds,  for  you  have  given  comfort  when 
it  was  most  needed.  God  knows  I  have  reason  to  be 
grateful,  in  the  strongest,  holiest  sense  of  the  word  gratitude. 
It  rejoices  me  to  hear  such  a  good  account  of  your 
dear  brother  ;  give  my  kindest  love  to  him,  and  tell  him 
I  will  get  a  budget  of  news  together  for  him  and  write 
him,  but  he  must  not  think  to  trouble  himself  with  answer- 
ing all  my  effusions,  and  I  will  be  content  to  hear  through 


1 1  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:     153 

you,  dear  Catherine,  of  his  well-being.  I  am  sure  a  tour 
in  England  and  a  change  of  scene  will  do  him  good.  All 
you  say  of  Fanny  is  most  interesting ;  the  gipsy  did  not 
read  to  me  the  whole  of  her  tragedy,  only  a  part  of  it,  and 
that  was  beautiful,  and  affected  me  very  powerfully,  as  I 
remember.  I  have  a  letter  from  her  since  her  return  to 
Philadelphia,  in  which  she  mentions  her  Georgia  winter 
with  no  great  pleasure.  Adelaide  Kemble  is  at  Trieste, 
and  poor  Mr.  Kemble's  health  so  bad  that  John  Kemble 
and  his  wife  have  gone  off  to  him  in  a  hurry.  I  shall  set 
off  for  Germany  about  the  end  of  January,  please  God, 
and  will  go  to  Adelaide  if  I  see  cause.  She  is  a  fine,  noble 
creature.  Here  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  scanty  paper,  and 
not  one  of  the  thousand  things  said  which  are  in  and  on 
my  heart.  Must  I  try  your  eyes  by  crossing  the  lines  ? 

The  fragment  which  follows  is  probably  the 
postscript,  not  crossed,  but  written  on  a  separate 
sheet,  to  the  same  letter  : 

I  spent  a  pleasant  morning  at  the  Palace,  had  luncheon 
with  the  lords  and  ladies  in  waiting,  and  the  Queen  very 
graciously  permitted  me  to  see  all  the  private  apartments, 
and  desired  Lady  Tavistock  to  show  me  the  picture  which 
Leslie  is  painting  of  her  ;  it  is  the  moment  of  consecration, 
when  she  is  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  is  a  very  beautiful  beginning.  It  will  be 
exhibited  this  year.  Another  artist,  who  is  rather  a 
favourite  with  her,  wished  to  paint  the  scene  which  took 
place  when  she  was  called  out  of  her  bed  at  four  in  the 
morning  and  told  that  she  was  Queen  of  England.  He 
sent  a  very  beautiful  sketch  of  his  design,  and  a  petition 
that  she  would  sit  for  him.  The  Queen,  after  a  little 
struggle  with  her  own  good  nature,  refused,  but  begged 


154  ANNA  JAMESON. 

that  he  would  ask  anything  else  ;  she  added  with  emotion 
(to  her  lady  in  waiting),  '  He  may  paint  such  a  picture  if 
he  likes,  but  I  cannot  sit  for  it ;  it  was  too  sacred  a  moment.' 
I  heard  many  anecdotes,  which  pleased  me  much.  She 
seems  to  be  really  a  right-hearted,1  thoroughly  good  little 
creature.  Spring  Rice  told  a  friend  of  mine  that  he  once 
carried  her  some  papers  to  sign,  and  said  something  about 
managing  so  as  to  give  her  Majesty  less  trouble.  She 
looked  up  from  her  paper,  and  said  quietly :  '  Pray  never 
let  me  hear  those  words  again ;  never  mention  the  word 
trouble.  Only  tell  me  how  the  thing  is  to  be  done,  to  be 
done  rightly,  and  I  will  do  it  if  I  can.'  I  do  not  know 
whether  these  little  anecdotes  will  interest  you,  but  surely, 
though  you  are  so  democratical,  you  will  feel  for  this  poor 
little  woman,  placed  in  such  an  awful  position  in  such 
awful  times.  I  was  afterwards  presented  to  the  Duchess 
of  Kent,  and  had  some  conversation  with  Lord  Melbourne, 
who  said  many  pretty  things  to  me  about  my  book.  I  go 
to  town  to  spend  Christmas  Day  with  my  people,  the  first 
time  for  five  years  ;  then  I  am  going  down  to  stay  at  Lord 
Hatherton's  in  Staffordshire,  and  then  to  Germany,  and 
in  April  back  to  England  to  meet  you.  Such  are  my  pro- 
jects. Trusting  to  hear  from  you,  dearest,  whenever  you 
can  write,  and  with  all  kind  remembrances  to  your  whole 
circle,  and  best  love  to  your  dear  bright  Kate,  I  am 
always,  your  affectionate  ANNA. 

Early  in  January  1839,  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  as 
follows  from  the  house  of  Lord  Hatherton,  Ted- 
desley  Park,  Staffordshire,  to  Mr.  Noel : 

1  It  must  be  recollected,  as  an  excuse  for  this  familiarity,  that  Her 
Majesty,  so  long  looked  up  to  by  a  new  generation  of  faithful  subjects, 
was  in  1838  a  very  young  and  interesting  girl,  naturally  looked  upon 
by  older  people  with  an  almost  pathetic  realisation  of  her  inexperi- 
ence and  youth. 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND   WORK  ENOUGH:      155 

The  day  before  I  left  London,  I  received  your  letter 
of  December  19,  and  brought  it  down  here  to  answer  it 
forthwith.  But  a  fortnight  has  since  elapsed,  and  I  have 
not  been  able  to  put  pen  to  paper.  Several  months  of 
harassing  work  and  great  anxiety  made  the  change  and 
the  perfect  leisure  of  a  country  life  in  a  house  full  of 
agreeable  people  only  too  pleasant,  and  I  have  abandoned 
myself  to  a  sort  of  indolent  indifference  to  all  earthly 
things  except  the  amusement  of  the  passing  hour.  This 
does  not  sound  like  me,  does  it  ?  Nevertheless  it  is  true. 

I  am  staying  at  present  with  Lord  and  Lady  Hather- 
ton.  We  have  had  a  large  aristocratic  party — the  Wilmot 
Mortons,  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Cavan,1  the  Lady  Lam- 
barts  and  junior  Bentincks,  Vernons,  Bagots,  all  very  gay  ; 
but  my  chief  delight  has  been  the  society  and  affection  of 
my  ci-devant  pupil,  Hyacinthe  Littleton.  My  book  has 
made  me  very  notorious,  and  I  have  been  praised  and 
abused  a  toute  outrance.  It  is  to  me  already  a  thing  quite 
past.  I  have  ceased  to  think  of  it,  and  have^turned  my 
mind  to  other  things.  I  see  by  the  papers  that  I  am  re- 
viewed in  the  '  British  and  Foreign/  but  how  and  in  what 
spirit  I  know  not.  Some  late  articles  in  that  review,  par- 
ticularly that  infamous  tirade  against  the  Custody  of 
Infants  Bill,  displeased  me  mortally. 

I  saw  Lady  Byron  the  very  day  before  I  left  town,  and 
had  a  long  talk  with  her.  She  was  more  than  kind,  and  her 
approbation  of  my  views  and  efforts  on  some  moral  points 
she  expressed  in  a  manner  that  went  very  near  my  heart. 

The  article  in  the  '  British  and  Foreign  Quar- 
terly '  had  appeared  in  the  January  number,  and 
was  of  a  favourable  and  friendly  character.  The 
writer  takes  occasion  to  observe  that  '  Mrs.  Jameson 

1  Third  daughter  of  Lord  Hatherton. 


156  ANNA  JAMESON. 

has  always  stood  alone  among  the  parti-coloured 
crowd  of  authoresses,  but  her  fate  is  in  some  re- 
spects singular.  Unlike  the  generality  of  those 
enjoying  a  solitary  and  select  reputation,  she  has 
hitherto  passed  along  her  literary  career  unscathed 
by  contemporary  petulance  or  ill-will.  For  the 
credit  of  human  and  literary  nature,  let  it  be  hoped 
that  one  cause  of  an  exemption  so  rare  in  these 
days  of  slander  and  acrimonious  personality  lies  in 
the  sincerity  of  mind  and  purpose  everywhere  visible 
throughout  her  works.  .  .  .  There  is  an  instinctive 
power  by  which  a  sincere  tongue  impresses  all  sin- 
cere hearts  with  affection,  and  overawes  falsehood 
into  silence  or  harmlessness  ;  and  thus,  whether  we 
judge  from  our  own  convictions  or  from  popular 
report,  we  can  fully  believe  Mrs.  Jameson  when,  in 
her  prelude  to  her  "  Characteristics  of  Women,"  she 
tells  us  that  out  of  the  fulness  of  her  own  heart  has 
she  written ;  and  again  when  in  introducing  her 
"  Visits  and  Sketches  "  she  says  :  "  There  is  in  the 
kindly  feeling,  the  spontaneous  sympathy  of  the 
public  towards  me,  something  which  fills  me  with 
gratitude  and  respect,  and  tells  me  to  respect  my- 
self, which  I  would  not  forfeit  for  the  greater  falat 
which  hangs  round  greater  names  ;  which  I  will 
not  forfeit  by  writing  one  line  from  an  unworthy 
motive,  nor  flatter  nor  invite  by  withholding  one 
thought,  opinion,  or  sentiment  which  I  believe  to 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:      157 

be  true,  and  to  which  I  can  put  the  seal  of  my 
heart's  conviction." 

Ample  quotations  from  the  work  reviewed  are 
given,  which  need  not  be  repeated  here.  The 
whole  critique  is  written,  not  in  an  exclusively  lauda- 
tory, but  a  carefully  appreciative  tone.  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's '  Studies  and  Rambles,'  her  winter  series  of 
short  essays  and  biographical  outlines,  and  her  Indian 
summer's  experiences,  are  alike  recommended  to 
such  among  the  public  as  may  be  glad  to  turn  from 
the  harangues  of  Lord  Durham,  and  the  plots  of 
Wolfred  Nelson,  to  rest  their  minds  upon  the  con- 
templation of  the  relics  of  aboriginal  life,  and  of  the 
scenery  of  lake,  forest,  and  mountain — a  grandeur, 
antiquity,  and  extent  before  which  all  human  striv- 
ings and  aspirations  are  rebuked  into  nothingness. 
'  It  is  for  such  readers,'  adds  the  critic,  'that  we 
have  written,  and  to  their  best  graces  do  we  sin- 
cerely commend  this  last  and  most  variously  amusing 
work  of  an  eloquent  and  graceful  authoress.' 

Neither  the  activity  of  her  mind,  however,  nor 
her  circumstances,  permitted  any  long  interval  of 
quiet  to  Mrs.  Jameson ;  and  very  soon  after  the 
publication  of  her  Canada  book  she  began  to  plan 
another  visit  to  Germany  for  various  motives,  one 
of  which  was  of  the  kind  which  appealed  to  her 
most  warmly — the  trouble  of  a  friend.  This  in- 
duced her  to  make  arrangements  for  setting  out  at 


158  ANNA  JAMESON. 

a  very  early  period  of  the  year,  though  not  without 
many  uncomfortable  recollections  of  the  colonial 
journeys  of  which  she  had  had  so  severe  an  ex- 
perience. She  explains  in  a  letter  dated  Novem- 
ber 24,  1838,  her  reasons  for  not  delaying  her 
departure  until  later  : 

I  hope  to  be  in  Germany  in  the  beginning  of  February, 
and  shall  be  in  Dresden  for  a  week  or  ten  days.  I  have 
two  reasons  for  undertaking  this  journey  in  the  winter 
season  (though,  indeed,  I  shiver  at  the  thought).  In  the 
first  place  I  must  be  in  London  in  April  next,  and  the  rest 
of  the  year  is  completely  cut  up  by  engagements,  so  that 
I  must  either  see  my  German  friends  in  winter  or  not  at 
all,  which  last  alternative  does  not  suit  me  in  the  least.  I  can 

never  do  any  good  for  my  poor ,  but  I  may  prevent 

some  evil  perhaps.  It  is  quite  a  hopeless  affair,  but  even 
for  that  very  reason  I  cannot,  and  must  not,  and  will  not 
give  her  up.  I  shall  spend  some  little  time  at  Weimar,  and 
then  go  on  to  Dresden.  I  have  undertaken  to  translate  the 
dramas  of  the  Princess  Amelia  l  into  English  for  a  certain 
purpose,  which  you  will  understand  some  of  these  days, 
for  I  cannot  now  explain  it.  This  is  the  second  reason  for 
my  going  to  Germany  this  winter.  My  poor  father  yet 
lives  in  precisely  the  same  state  as  when  I  came  in  all 
haste  from  Dresden  five  years  ago,  to  see  him  die,  as  I 
then  supposed.  How  much,  dear  Noel,  has  passed  since 
then — how  many  events — how  much  have  I  seen  !  Strange 
world,  is  it  not  ?  But  that  I  preserve  yet,  under  circum- 
stances and  feelings  which  have  gone  nigh  to  crush  me 
and  break  me  down  utterly,  the  cheerful  and  hopeful 
temper  of  my  mind,  is  a  thing  to  thank  God  for,  which  I  do. 

1  Of  Saxony. 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:     159 

In  the  spring  of  1839,  during  Mrs.  Jameson's 
brief  absence  in  Germany,  the  family  moved  from 
the  pretty  old-fashioned  villa  in  St.  John's  Wood 
to  a  house  in  the  then  new  quarter  of  Netting  Hill. 
On  her  return,  her  home  continued  to  be  chiefly 
here  with  her  parents.  But  her  mind  was  again 
troubled  about  many  things  in  connection  with 
pecuniary  and  family  business,  as  will  be  apparent 
from  a  letter  written  from  London  in  July  to  Mr. 
Noel: 

Since  I  returned  to  England  I  have  done  nothing,  made 
no  progress  in  my  own  affairs,  but  have  been  suffering  a 
martyrdom  of  vexation  and  care  on  account  of  my  family. 
All  has  been  going  wrong,  and  the  exertions  and  the  sacri- 
fices I  must  make  to  bring  all  right  again  exceed  anything 
I  could  have  anticipated.  However,  I  must  go  through 
with  it,  and  with  God's  blessing  I  will.  I  still  indulge  the 
hope  of  seeing  you  and  Germany  again  next  summer. 
But  I  must  struggle  hard  for  it.  England  does  not  suit 
me,  or  more  properly  the  way  of  life  to  which  I  must 
submit  in  England.  The  circumstances  with  which  I  am 
surrounded  do  not  suit  me,  are  all  against  the  wants  of  my 
individual  nature.  Never  was  party  feeling  so  bitter  as  at 
this  moment,  never  since  the  time  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. All  benevolence,  all  moral  perceptions  and  feelings 
seem  annihilated  by  this  vile  spirit  of  party.  Even  this 
subject  of  national  education  is  made  a  party  question. 
I  recollect  the  apathy,  public  and  private,  with  which 
this  question  was  regarded  six  years  ago,  and  am  therefore 
comforted  by  the  manner  in  which  it  is  now  discussed  in 
every  circle.  All  agree  that  something  must  be  done  for 
the  general  education  of  the  people,  but  the  Churchmen 


160  ANNA  JAMESON. 

wish  to  keep  it  as  an  instrument  in  their  hands,  the  others 
insist  that  it  should  be  the  business  of  the  State.  What 
the  House  of  Commons  enact,  the  Lords  reject ;  and  I 
cannot  help  anticipating  the  possibility  of  the  Commons 
voting  the  Lords  useless,  as  in  Cromwell's  time.  Atten- 
tion is  also  drawn  to  the  position  of  the  women  by  several 
late  publications  that  have  taken  up  the  matter  very  much 
in  my  own  way.  One  beautiful  little  book  has  appeared 
with  the  title  of  '  Woman's  Mission,'  which  is,  however,  so 
far  defective  that  it  considers  women  only  in  the  light  of 
mothers,  whereas  they  have  other  relations  with  society. 
I  believe  I  shall  enter  the  field  one  of  these  days.  The 
true  position  of  the  woman  is  the  queen  of  her  home,,  but 
home  must  become  in  the  eyes  of  men  more  sacred  than  it 
is  now.  In  short,  there  is  so  much  to  be  said  that  I  must 
not  go  on. 

My  American  friend,  Miss  Sedgwick,  has  been  in  Eng- 
land, and  has  made  a  most  favourable  impression.  Lady 
Byron  in  particular  was  very  kind  to  her. 

We  are  all  horror-struck  at  this  moment  by  the  riots 
in  Birmingham — houses  burned,  people  killed.  Rather 
alarming  times  these  !  There  is  an  angry  spirit  among  the 
lower  classes  in  this  country,  which,  united  to  their  bru- 
tality, ignorance,  and  real  wrongs,  makes  me  a  little  appre- 
hensive. But  I  hope  much  from  the  good  sense  and  large 
amount  of  property  appertaining  to  the  middle  classes. 
I  wish  myself  back  in  Germany  with  all  my  heart.  Here  I 
have  no  leisure  to  think. 

Miss  Sedgwick's  visit  to  England,  which  Mrs. 
Jameson  had  looked  forward  to  with  so  much  plea- 
sure, was  now  over.  When  she  proceeded  to  the 
Continent  after  spending  some  time  in  London,  Mrs. 


' /  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:      i6t 

Jameson,  although  not  long  returned,  would  willingly 
have  again  left  England  with  her  had  circumstances 
permitted.  But  this  proved  impossible,  and  the 
interrupted  correspondence  was  resumed  as  follows 
on  August  14 : 

For  myself,  I  am  just  beginning  to  collect  my  strength 
to  work  again,  for  it  has  been  a  sad  harassing  month.  I 
am  going  down  to  Richmond  to  Mrs.  Austin  for  a  few 
days,  and  also  to  Mrs.  Crete's,  in  Buckinghamshire.  One 
of  the  persons  I  have  seen  most  of  since  you  left  me  has 
been  Lady  Byron,  whose  fine  and  truly  noble  character 
improves  and  opens  upon  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  love 
her  very  much  ;  but  it  were  a  bad  calculation,  for  our  paths 
in  life  are  so  very  different.  She  speaks  of  you  always 
with  deep  respect  and  interest ;  and  I — certainly  it  requires 
all  the  consciousness  of  a  first  duty  done  to  console  me  for 
what  I  lose  in  not  being  with  you.  But  I  will  not  be  thank- 
less. We  had  some  pleasant  hours  together,  and  in  my 
heart  rests  the  conviction  that  our  meeting  in  London  has 
strengthened  and  confirmed  a  friendship  which  I  accept 
from  God  as  a  peculiar  mercy,  sent  to  me  when  I  most 
needed  it. 

In  November  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  from  Notting 
Hill  to  her  friend  at  Florence  with  a  spirited  defence 
of  herself  from  some  accusation  which  cannot  now 
be  explained.  It  referred  apparently  to  her  faithful 
support,  in  doubtful  circumstances,  of  a  friend. 

I  have  not  stirred  from  home  for  nearly  a  fortnight 
until  yesterday,  when  I  went  to  town  on  business.  I  have 

M 


1 6a  ANNA  JAMESON. 

been  correcting  the  last  sheets  of  my  new  book,  which  is 
to  appear  soon.  I  despond  about  it  terribly.  .  .  .  As 
soon  as  it  is  published  I  will  rush  off  to  Paris,  and 
leave  the  cry  of  criticism  behind  me.  The  letter  you 
wrote  to  me  from  Frankfort  I  have  never  received.  I  have 

one  from  Mme.  K ,  in  which  you  are  mentioned  with 

great  distinction.  What  has  she  been  saying  about  me  or 
my  friends  to  make  you  doubtful  or  anxious  on  my  ac- 
count ?  '  What  feminine  tale  hast  thou  been  listening  to  ? ' 

But  I  can  guess,  knowing  Mme.  K well.      My  dear 

friend,  where  I  am  concerned,  let  me  trust  that  you  will 
listen  to  your  own  heart  and  to  me,  and  not  to  such  people 

as  Mme.  K ,  for  whom  I  have  a  sincere  respect  within 

her  own  small  sphere.  Within  the  bounds  of  her  own  mental 
vision  (about  the  length  and  breadth  of  Frankfort)  I  trust 
to  her  judgment  and  her  clearsightedness ;  beyond  those 
bounds  what  is  she  ?  the  merest  worldling.  Then  you  add 
something  about  my  being  the  champion  of  my  sex,  and 
shadows  falling  over  me.  Am  I  then  here  to  scribble  and 
speak  pretty  words  about  women,  and  what  I  consider  to 
be  the  duty  of  woman  to  woman,  and  then,  if  I  see  a 
woman  perishing  at  my  feet  morally  and  physically,  not 
stretch  out  a  hand  to  save  a  soul  alive  ?  And  this  for  fear 

of  shadows,  of  what  the  Mme.  K s  of  this  world  might 

say  of  me  ?  Trust  to  me,  dear  Catherine,  and  love  me, 
and  never  believe  I  can  confound  the  virtue  I  honour  with 
profligacy,  levity,  and  folly. 

Well !  we  are  all  well  settled  in  our  new  abode,  and 
things  go  on  pretty  well ;  you  and  yours  are  ever  re- 
membered with  pleasure  and  affection  by  us  all,  and 
your  reminiscences  of  poor  St.  John's  Wood  touched 
my  father  and  mother  to  the  heart.  Mrs.  Grote,  Mrs. 
Austin,  Henry  Reeve,  Mrs.  Procter,  Lady  Byron,  and 
Carlyle  and  his  wife  are  among  those  whom  I  have  seen 


' /  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:       163 

lately  who  speak  of  you  and  enquire  about  you,  as  if  I  ought 
to  know  all  concerning  you.  Lady  Byron  I  have  seen 
frequently,  and  the  more  I  know  her  the  more  I  admire 
her,  and  would,  I  think,  love  her  much,  for  she  has  a  rare 
heart  and  mind.  But  it  would  not  do  ;  a  new  friend  to  me 
is  not  a4new  possession,  but  a  new  pang,  a  new  separation. 
May  God  only  spare  to  me  what  I  have  left,  and  may 
I  not  pass  my  whole  life  in  absence,  for  that  seems  my 
fate.  My  friends,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  are 
very  few,  and  I  am  doomed  to  live  in  separation  from 
them. 

Before  the  year  drew  to  a  close  Mrs.  Jameson's 
book  on  Canada  was  brought  out  in  New  York, 
together  with  an  American  edition  of  the  '  Charac- 
teristics of  Women/  In  England  appeared  a  third 
edition  of  the  'Visits  and  Sketches/  but  the  only 
fresh  literary  work  Mrs.  Jameson  had  in  hand  seems 
to  have  been  what  proved  to  her  a  pleasant  task — 
the  translation  of  the  domestic  dramas  by  the  Prin- 
cess Amelia  of  Saxony,  published  the  year  following 
under  the  title  of  '  Social  Life  in  Germany/ 

Meantime  her  intimacy  with  Lady  Byron  in- 
creased daily,  an  intimacy  that  was  to  colour  her 
life  for  years  to  come.  She  wrote  from  Netting 
Hill,  November  24  : 

Lady  Byron  and  I  go  on  very  well  indeed  ;  she  is  most 
kind  to  me,  and  we  have  long  arguments  and  discussions, 
sometimes  agreeing  and  sometimes  not.  We  are  so  dif- 
ferent in  structure  that  complete  agreement  were  impossible. 
It  is  with  her  as  with  every  one  else  I  know ;  my  sym- 

M  2 


1 64  ANNA  JAMESON. 


pathies  with  her  are  more  entire  than  hers  with  me.  I 
dine  with  her  on  Friday  to  meet  Dr.  Lushington,  a  man  I 
have  long  wished  to  know. 

Again,  writing  of  Lady  Byron  some  three  weeks 
later,  Mrs.  Jameson  says  : 

We  go  on  charmingly  together,  and  I  am  very  much 
struck  by  the  singular  powers  of  her  mind  and  her  very 
uncommon  character.  I  begin  to  understand  her,  and 
there  is  scarcely  any  subject  on  which  I  would  not  speak 
to  her  openly,  except  those  of  a  personal  nature.  I  should 
not  be  afraid  of  startling  her  by  putting  cases  before  her 

t, 

of  a  questionable  nature,  and  discussing  any  point  what- 
ever in  faith  and  morals. 

I  am  thinking  of  Italy  with  hope  and  also  with  mis- 
givings. Two  things  may  yet  detain  me — my  poor  dear 
father's  increasing  illness,  and  the  want  of  sufficient  money. 
I  am  hoarding  what  little  I  have,  but  the  large  sums  I 
have  paid  for  my  family  this  year  will  cripple  my  resources 
next  year.  My  poor  father  is  very  weak.  I  dare  not  hint 
at  the  idea  of  going  away  for  any  time.  He  is  now  accus- 
tomed to  have  me  near  him,  and  does  not  like  me  even  to 
leave  the  room. 

Notwithstanding  all  which  apprehensions  and  diffi- 
culties she  did  leave  England  in  the  following 
February,  with  the  intention  of  proceeding  direct 
to  Italy  ;  but  she  got  no  farther  than  Paris,  whence 
she  was  again  summoned  home  by  fresh  fears  for 
her  father's  life.  She  writes  from  London  on 
March  15,  1840  : 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:       165 

When  I  wrote  to  you  I  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for 
Italy.  I  was  recalled  just  as  I  was  leaving  Paris  for 
Lyons,  called  home  on  my  poor  father's  account  much  in 
the  same  manner  as  at  Dresden,  and  after  a  painful 
struggle  submitted  to  fate  and  duty,  for  in  this  world  our 
duties  must  be  our  destinies.  I  am  come  home  in  truth 
to  see  my  poor  father  die,  for  I  believe  there  is  little  chance 
of  his  rallying  again,  though  this  painful  and  protracted 
sinking  of  all  the  faculties  together  may  last  some  weeks 
longer. 

My  position  is  very  embarrassing  and  painful.  I  am, 
of  course,  with  my  mother  ;  my  home  is  melancholy ;  I 
cannot  but  feel  regret  for  all  I  have  abandoned,  though 
God  knows  I  do  not  repent 

And   a    month    later  there    is    still   the  same   un- 
certain state  of  things  : 

At  present  I  hardly  know  what  my  destiny  is  like  to 
be  ;  it  must  wait  upon  my  duty.  My  wish,  my  project,  is 
always  the  same  ;  for  you  know  how  tenacious  I  am  when 
once  I  rouse  myself  up  to  will  anything  strongly.  I  wish 
to  go  to  Germany  this  year,  and  take  my  darling  little 
Gerardine  with  me,  but  do  not  see  that  I  can  leave  my 
mother  while  my  poor  father  exists,  and  how  long  he  is  to 
linger  thus  is  doubtful.  He  has  recovered  from  a  most 
dangerous  attack,  which  only  a  week  ago  left  me  with 
little  hope  of  his  surviving  beyond  a  few  days,  and  we  were 
prepared  for  the  worst.  It  is  but  a  reprieve,  but  he  is  so 
wonderfully  better  that  he  may  go  on  thus  for  months. 
Meantime,  though  there  is  much  to  be  done  and  endured, 
I  cannot  say  I  am  unhappy :  my  mind  is  very  serene,  and  I 
am  so  engrossed  by  the  affairs,  and  interests,  and  sufferings 
of  others,  I  have  no  time  to  think  about  myself.  Besides 


1 66  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  have  just  undertaken  a  new  book,  a  laborious  thing, 
which  will  pay  me  well,  and  must  be  finished  as  soon  as 
possible.  .  .  .  Another  work  of  a  much  more  important 
kind,  which  has  been  in  my  head  for  four  years  past,  I 
shall  probably  finish  in  Germany. 

You  may  possibly  have  heard  that  Charles  Kemble 
has  been  in  town  till  now,  detained  by  the  Queen's  com- 
mand, who  wished  to  see  him  in  some  of  his  principal  cha- 
racters. He  has  acted  admirably,  and  is  at  the  same  time 
in  the  very  first  society  in  London.  I  went  with  Lady 
Lovelace  to  see  him  play  Hamlet,  and  was  wonder- 
struck  by  the  vigour,  the  grace,  and  the  exquisite  truth  of 
the  personification. 

The  laborious  work  to  which  Mrs.  Jameson 
alludes  in  the  latter  part  of  this  letter  was  the  com- 
piling of  an  elaborate  catalogue  raisonnd,  or  companion 
and  guide  to  the  various  private  art  collections  to 
which  the  public  obtained  admission  in  London, 
such  as  the  Ellesmere  and  Grosvenor  Galleries,  and 
the  collections  of  the  Queen  and  Sir  Robert  Peel. 
Although  this  was  the  first  of  her  contributions  to 
art-literature,  the  name  of  Mrs.  Jameson  as  an 
earnest  student  and  connoisseur  was  already  suffi- 
ciently well  known  to  insure  her  every  possible 
facility  and  consideration  on  the  part  of  the 
noble  owners  of  art  collections.  In  the  course  of 
the  year  1841,  the  'Companion '  appeared  in  separate 
and  collected  form,  and  was,  I  believe,  a  successful 
speculation  for  the  publisher.  A  few  letters  are 
still  extant  referring  to  this  work,  having  a  special 


1 1  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:      167 

interest  belonging  to  them,  and  which  I  therefore 
venture  to  insert  here ;  taking  first  in  order,  al- 
though not  first  in  date,  a  letter  from  the  Hon. 
Amelia  Murray,  dated  Buckingham  Palace,  August  2, 
1842  :— 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — I  sent  down  a  petition  after 
you  left  me  yesterday,  that  the  Queen  might  give  me  an 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  her  in  the  course  of  the  after- 
noon. Although  much  hurried,  she  saw  me  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  listened  with  evident  pleasure  to  the  little 
explanations  which  you  wished  made  respecting  the  cata- 
logue, and  read  your  few  words  in  the  title-page  with  one 
of  her  sweetest  smiles.  She  then  said,  '  Pray  thank  Mrs. 
Jameson  for  me  very  much'  She  stood  for  a  few  minutes 
quietly  turning  over  the  leaves,  and  glancing  her  eye  over 
some  of  the  descriptions.  I  then  remarked  that,  Her 
Majesty  having  been  so  gracious  in  her  frequent  permis- 
sions to  me  to  take  Mrs.  Jameson  into  the  gallery,  I  was 
particularly  anxious  to  present  the  fruit  of  those  visits  with 
my  own  hand.  '  Ah,  exactly  ! '  she  said,  and,  making  me 
a  graceful  kind  of  half  bow,  half  curtsey,  which  she  some- 
times does  when  she  is  pleased  almost  in  a  playful  manner, 
she  ran  lightly  off  with  the  book  in  her  hand,  as  if  she  was 
going  to  show  her  treasure  to  the  Prince. 

I  describe  this  little  scene  exactly,  and  I  am  sure  you 
have  every  reason  to  be  gratified  by  the  manner  in  which 
your  offering  was  accepted.  With  the  Queen  everything 
depends  upon  the  expression  of  her  countenance  to  those 
who  know  how  to  read  it.  She  endeavours  to  receive  what 
is  offered  to  her  in  a  right  spirit  graciously,  but  when  it  is 
only  the  intention  and  not  the  gift  which  has  any  value  to 
her,  she  says  a  few  kind  words  with  an  unconscious  look 


1 68  ANNA  JAMESON. 

of  indifference  at  the  article  she  has  to  receive  ;  so  she 
regarded  a  certain  diamond  necklace  and  ornaments  I 
once  saw  brought  to  her  from  the  Imaum  of  Muscat,  but 
I  was  gratified  to  see  that  your  catalogue  elicited  one  of 
her  beaming  smiles,  such  as  are  rarely  bestowed  save  upon 
her  own  husband.  Few  are  yet  sensible  what  a  fascinating 
creature  she  is  !  The  perfect  truth  and  simplicity  which 
are  united  to  such  depth  and  strength  of  character  give  an 
interest  to  every  look  and  a  charm  to  every  word  she 
utters. '  But  I  must  stop.  If  I  once  allow  my  feelings  full 
vent  in  speaking  of  my  dear  young  mistress,  I  know  not 
how  to  stop  ;  and  most  people  believe  me  but  a  courtier 
after  all.  But  I  think,  my  dear  Mrs.  Jameson,  you  know 
me  well  enough  to  believe  that  it  is  indeed  'out  of  the 
fulness  of  the  heart '  that  the  pen  writeth,  and  that  only 
a  hearty  appreciation  of  the  character  could  make  me 
admire  my  Queen  as  I  do. 

This  letter  should,  perhaps,  have  followed  rather 
than  preceded  the  next  in  due  regard  to  dates,  as  it 
alludes  to  the  royal  reception  given  to  the  complete 
work,  whereas  these  are  letters  written  while  the 
catalogues  were  in  progress.  The  translation  of 
Dr.  Waagen's  '  Life  of  Peter  Paul  Rubens '  by  Mr. 
Noel,  with  Mrs.  Jameson's  introduction  and  notes, 
had  appeared  in  the  spring,  and  Sir  Robert  Peel's 
letter  refers  to  this  work  also : 

Whitehall,  May  5,  1840. — Sir  Robert  Peel  presents  his 
compliments  to  Mrs.  Jameson,  and  is  much  obliged  by  her 
kind  attention  in  sending  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  the  work  on 
Rubens,  which  Sir  Robert  Peel  has  read  with  great  interest 
and  satisfaction. 


< I  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:      169 

Almost  every  picture  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  school 
in  Sir  Robert  Peel's  collection  (indeed  he  believes  every 
one)  is  described  in  the  work  of  Smith  and  Waagen.  He 
will  send  Mrs.  Jameson  the  references  to  the  pages  of 
Smith's  work  in  which  his  pictures  are  referred  to,  and 
thus  probably  save  Mrs.  Jameson  some  trouble. 

He  will  send  also  an  account  of  the  portraits  he  has 
by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which  are  not  mentioned  by 
Smith. 

Mrs.  Jameson  shall  have  every  facility  of  access  to  the 
pictures,  and  as  Sir  Robert  Peel  may  probably  again  leave 
town  with  his  family  for  a  few  days,  he  will  apprise  Mrs. 
Jameson  of  the  period,  as  she  would  then  incur  no  risk  of 
being  interfered  with.  If  Mrs.  Jameson  should  wish  to 
see  them  at  an  earlier  time,  he  can  easily  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  purpose. 

Lord  Lansdowne  writes  : — 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  have,  since  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you,  made  two  very  pretty  acquisitions,  the  last  I 
mean  to  indulge  in  for  some  time  to  come  ;  and  if  you 
happen  to  come  into  town  any  morning,  one  of  them,  I  am 
sure  (being  a  '  Leonardo  da  Vinci,'  and  as  true  a  one  at 
least  as  any  that  exists  in  this  country),  you .  would  con- 
sider, cataloguing  apart,  as  repaying  you  for  the  trouble  of 
a  call. 

I  shall  be  in  town  and  at  home  about  eleven  o'clock 
every  morning  for  the  rest  of  the  week,  but  will  leave 
directions,  if  I  am  out,  for  you  to  be  shown  the  '  Leonardo ' 
and  the  « Both.' 

I  have  been  favoured  with  the  following  memo- 
randum from  Mrs.  Grote,  in  which  an  account  is  given 


170  ANNA  JAMESON. 

of  a  journey  taken  in  the  interest  of  this  work.  I 
quote  this  little  contribution  as  it  stands,  though  only 
a  portion  belongs  to  the  real  course  of  the  narrative, 
as  an  additional  testimony  of  regard  from  one  of  my 
aunt's  distinguished  contemporaries. 

Memorandum  concerning  my  Ancient  Relations  with  the 
late  Anna  Jameson,  ne'e  Murphy.     Feb.  8,  1878. 

As  far  as  my  memory  serves,  my  acquaintance  with 
Mrs.  Jameson  must  have  begun  somewhere  about  the  year 
1837.  She  was  then  living  with  her  sisters,  at  their  house 
on  Notting  Hill.  Mrs.  Jameson  was  introduced  to  me 
by  the  Kemble  family,  Mr.  Henry  Reeve,  Mr.  Henry 
Chorley,  and  Mrs.  Procter  being  our  common  acquaint- 
ances. She  was  then  employed  in  literary  composition 
of  various  kinds.  Mrs.  Jameson  devoted  her  talents  more 
to  art  than  to  any  other  subject  at  the  time  I  am  speaking 
of.  She  had  a  superior  understanding,  was  possessed  of 
great  energy  of  character,  and  was  a  favourite  with  us  all. 

Mrs.  Jameson  was  not  fortunate  in  her  marriage — in 
fact,  she  and  her  husband  never  lived  together.  He  occu- 
pied a  comfortable  position  as  Attorney-General  of  Canada, 
allowing  his  wife  a  small  annuity. 

Feeling  desirous  of  promoting  her  views  in  connection 
with  the  literature  of  art,  I  invited  Mrs.  Jameson  to  ac- 
company me  in  my  own  postchaise  on  a  journey  of  150 
miles  which  I  was  about  to  make,  in  the  summer  of  1840. 
The  object  of  this  journey  was  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  friend 
the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  at  his  parsonage  in  Somersetshire ; 
but  I  intended  to  take  the  opportunity  of  seeing  several 
collections  of  pictures  which  lay  on  my  track  to  the  West. 
I  first  halted  at  Wilton  House,  to  pay  my  respects  to  my 
old  friend  Lady  Pembroke,  and  Mrs.  Jameson  profited  by 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:      171 

this  good  chance  to  look  attentively  over  the  pictures  con- 
tained in  that  noble  mansion. 

After  leaving  Wilton,  we  travelled  to  Stourhead,  putting 
up  for  two  nights  at  the  pleasant  little  inn  adjoining  the 
grounds  of  Sir  Richard  Colt  Hoare,  Bart.  Several  hours 
were  spent  in  looking  through  the  collection  of  pictures 
and  antiquities  at  this  well-known  country  seat,  Mrs. 
Jameson  making  notes  of  the  most  interesting  portions 
for  future  use. 

We  proceeded  next  to  Combe  Florey  (the  chief  object 
of  my  journey,  as  has  been  said),  Mrs.  Jameson  going  to 
stay  with  a  friend  not  very  far  from  Taunton,  and  rejoining 
me  at  Mr.  Sydney  Smith's  after  my  week's  visit.  We 
posted  thence  to  Bristol,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  fine 
collection  of  pictures  at  Leigh  Court,  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Miles. 

From  Bristol  we  proceeded  by  the  great  Bath  road  to 
Chippenham,  in  order  to  visit  thence  the  collection  of  the 
Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  at  Bowood,  which  visit  afforded 
Mrs.  Jameson,  as  well  as  myself,  great  pleasure  and  in- 
struction. Mrs.  Jameson  always  felt  and  expressed  a  lively 
sense  of  my  kindness  in  affording  her  these  valuable 
opportunities  of  adding  to  her  artistic  experiences ;  and  I 
must  confess  that  her  conversation  and  cheerful  temper 
added  sensibly  to  the  enjoyment  of  my  own  excursion. 
Mrs.  Jameson  was  much  at  our  house  in  London  during 
the  years  1840,  1841,  1842,  and  1843.  After  this  date  our 
intercourse  became  less  frequent,  from  various  explainable 
causes,  though  I  never  had  reason  to  alter  my  opinion  of 
her  merits.  She  was  always  at  work,  striving  to  promote 
the  comfort  and  welfare  of  others ;  and,  after  the  death  of 
her  father,  her  strenuous  endeavours  were  mainly  directed 
to  the  maintenance  and  education  of  her  niece,  Gerardine, 
to  whom  she  was  fondly  attached. 


i?2  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Mrs.  Jameson  became  intimately  connected  with  the 
late  Lady  Byron,  and  was  so  engrossed  with  that  lady's 
family  and  concerns  that  she  ceased  to  maintain  several  of 
her  old  social  connections  for  some  years.  I  myself  almost 
lost  sight  of  her,  and  scarcely  recollect  any  particulars  of 
her  personal  course  beyond  the  publication  of  her  work  on 
Sacred  Art.  She  passed  a  long  time  in  Italy  about  that 
period,  I  believe. 

I  hope  some  suitable  memoir  may  be  forthcoming,  ere 
long,  of  this  clever,  amiable,  and  benevolent  woman,  of 
whom  no  one  could  ever  speak  in  any  other  terms  than 
those  implying  admiration  of  her  talents  and  esteem  for 

her  personal  character. 

H.  GROTE. 

P.S. — I  regret  to  have  destroyed  all  Mrs.  Jameson's 
letters  to  myself  (and  that  within  the  last  five  years),  along 
with  many  other  letters  far  less  interesting. 

That,  notwithstanding  all  such  sympathy  and 
encouragement,  the  actual  labour  demanded  by  the 
task  undertaken  was  almost  too  much  for  the 
strength  of  the  compiler,  is  evidenced  by  the  follow- 
ing letter  written  from  Notting  Hill  on  Novem- 
ber 1 7  : 

I  believe  I  told  you  that  I  had  undertaken  a  new  book 
called  a  '  Companion  to  the  Galleries  of  Art.'  It  has 
proved  a  most  laborious  affair ;  the  research  and  accuracy 
required  have  almost  beaten  me,  and  I  am  not  easily 
beaten.  It  is  a  sort  of  thing  which  ought  to  have  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Waagen,  or  some  such  bigwig,  in- 
stead of  poor  little  me.  Add  that  being  at  some  distance 
from  town,  and  without  any  near  assistance,  sympathy,  or 


' I  HAVE  LOVE  AND    WORK  ENOUGH:      173 

companionship,  my  difficulties  have  been  much  increased 
by  circumstances.  I  am  to  receive  3OO/.  for  it  (one  volume), 
and  I  expect  it  will  be  finished  by  next  February.  The 
printing  has  begun,  and  what  with  preparing  MS.,  hunting 
dates  and  names  through  musty  ponderous  authorities, 
travelling  to  the  British  Museum,  wearing  out  my  eyes 
over  manuscript  or  ill-printed  catalogues,  and  correcting 
the  press  to  keep  up  with  the  printers,  the  most  irritating 
thing  possible,  I  have  never  one  moment  of  leisure  in  the 
week.  I  am  hunted  by  care  from  the  moment  I  rise  till 
I  go  to  rest.  Then  I  must  devote  some  part  of  my  day  to 
my  poor  father,  who  still  drags  on  a  sort  of  half-existence  ; 
and  my  family  in  other  respects  are  a  source  of  deep 
anxiety.  I  do  not  tell  you  all  this,  dear  Noel,  by  way  of 
complaint,  but  simply  of  excuse.  No  reason  have  I  to 
complain.  My  health  is  excellent  in  general,  except  that 
I  suffer  from  my  eyes.  My  mind  is  quite  serene ;  and  if 
I  have  ceased  to  live  for  myself,  or  think  of  happiness,  I 
have  not  ceased  to  hope ;  and  my  first  hope,  that  to 
which  I  hold  fast  through  everything,  is  to  go  to  Germany 
for  a  couple  of  years.  This,  if  I  live,  I  will  do,  and  so 
much  for  my  own  history — finis. 

Lady  Byron,  I  grieve  to  say,  is  yet  at  Paris,  where  she 
has  been  very  ill.  I  miss  her  inexpressibly.  She  has 
taken  to  me  kindly,  and  the  more  I  know  her  the  more  I 
love  her.  It  is  one  of  the  most  singular  minds  and  cha- 
racters that  ever  fell  under  my  contemplation,  and  the 
effect  which  retirement  from  the  world  and  sorrow  have 
had  on  the  original  texture,  is  to  me  a  perpetual  source  of 
interest. 

In  the  following  year  Mrs.  Jameson  undertook 
for  the  columns  of  the  '  Penny  Magazine '  a  series 
of  articles  on  the  early  Italian  painters  that  attracted 


174  ANNA  JAMESON. 

much  attention  to,  and  rapidly  increased  the  circula- 
tion of,  that  periodical  at  the  time,  and,  when  pub- 
lished in  1845  in  one  small  volume,  became  one  of 
her  most  popular  works.  The  '  Athenseum '  of 
August  1 6  of  that  year  has  an  article  on  this  little 
book,  highly  commending  its  price  (one  shilling)  and 
its  scope — the  artistical  education  of  the  masses. 

Later,  when  the  copyright  passed  into  Mr. 
Murray's  hands,  Mrs.  Jameson  revised  the  whole, 
and  editions  were  published  in  1858  and  1859 ;  and 
again  in  1868,  years  after  the  active  pen  of  the 
writer  was  stopped  for  ever,  another  edition  was 
found  advisable.  I  believe  this  to  have  been  the 
only  work  of  my  aunt's  translated  into  the  French 
language.  In  1862,  Messrs.  Hachette,  of  Paris, 
published  '  La  Peinture  et  les  Peintres  italiens,' 
rendered  into  French  by  M.  Ferdinand  Labour. 
The  translator's  preface  concludes  with  these  words  : 

La  critique  anglaise,  quelquefois  un  peu  depourvue 
d'imagination,  est  presque  toujours  empreinte  d'un  rare 
bon  sens  ;  souvent  6rudite,  elle  m^prise  le  clinquant  et 
entre  dans  des  details  pratiques  et  techniques  fort  utiles. 

C'est  persuad6  d'avoir  trouv6  ces  qualitds  se"rieuses 
dans  le  livre  de  Mrs.  Jameson,  que  j'ai  entrepris  la  tra- 
duction  de  la  '  Vie  des  Peintres  italiens.'  Mrs.  Jameson 
parle  des  arts  en  Anglaise  qui  examine  tout  avec  scrupule, 
en  femme  qui  aime  passionnement  la  peinture,  en  touriste 
qui,  ayant  beaucoup  vu  et  beaucoup  voyage,  n'est  nullement 
exclusive-;  en  erudite  qui,  ayant  immensement  lu,  com- 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND   WORK  ENOUGH:      175 

pare  les  opinions  de  tons  avant  de  faire  valoir  les  siennes. 
Cependant  la  reunion  de  ces  differentes  qualite*s  ne  ferait 
pas  encore  du  livre  de  Mrs.  Jameson  un  livre  d'une  lecture 
facile  et  agre"able,  commode  a  consulter  dans  un  salon, 
tel  enfin  que  bon  nombre  de  personnes  qui,  sans  etre 
artistes,  aiment  cependant  les  arts  sans  trop  vouloir  les 
approfondir,  avaient  le  droit  de  1'exiger,  si  Mrs.  Jameson 
n'avait  e"t6  avant  tout  un  6crivain  d'un  tact  exquis,  d'un 
gout  parfait,  qui  juge  les  peintres  en  veritable  connaisseur 
et  en  parle  en  femme  de  monde. 

The  series  of  dramas  illustrative  of  '  Social  Life 
in  Germany,'  published  under  that  title,  and  trans- 
lated from  the  German  of  the  Princess  Amelia  of 
Saxony,  came  out  this  year,  but  was  not,  I  believe, 
a  success,  pecuniarily  speaking ;  nor  did  any  of  the 
plays,  however  in  themselves  pleasing  and  charac- 
teristic, prove  to  be  adapted,  as  Mrs.  Jameson  had 
been  encouraged  to  expect,  for  the  tastes  and  re- 
quirements of  an  English  audience. 

The  success  of  the  '  Companion  to  the  Private 
Galleries'  induced  Mrs.  Jameson  to  arrange  with 
Mr.  Murray  for  the  issue  of  a  work  in  similar  form 
under  the  title  of  a  '  Handbook  to  the  Public 
Galleries  in  and  near  London.'  This  came  out  in 
January  1842,  and  the  'Athenaeum'  early  in  the 
following  month  dedicated  its  leading  article  to  a 
favourable  review  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  '  Handbook,' 
giving  abundant  extracts  and  a  large  meed  of  praise, 
and  concluding  by  describing  it  as  '  one  of  the  best 


1 76  ANNA  JAMESON. 

executed  works  which  has  been  turned  out  in  these 
days  of  broken  literary  promises  and  unperformed 
literary  duties.' 

The  autumn  of  1841  Mrs.  Jameson  had  spent 
in  Paris,  studying  early  art  in  all  its  forms  for  the 
work  above  alluded  to,  and  also  with  an  eye  to  the 
more  important  work  still,  which  had  been  for  years 
in  contemplation.  To  her  sister  Charlotte  she 
wrote  : 

The  great  event  of  my  life  here  has  been  the  meeting 
with  Rio.1  I  have  introduced  him  to  Mrs.  Forster,  and  to 
her  son-in-law,  M.  de  Triqueti,  and  all  parties  are  so  de- 
lighted with  each  other  that  I  have  had  cordial  thanks  on 
both  sides  for  being  the  means  of  making  them  known  to 
each  other.  M.  de  Triqueti  is  a  fine  artist,  a  sculptor, 
and  altogether  an  admirable  creature.  He  had  previously 
fallen  in  love  with  Rio's  book,  and  now  I  think  it  will  prove 
an  eternal  friendship.  I  am  in  the  Louvre  every  day  at 
least,  studying,  and  that  so  carefully  that  I  am  not  yet 
beyond  the  Italian  school  in  the  Salle  des  Tableaux,  nor 
beyond  the  first  room  in  the  Galerie  des  Dessins,  and  I 
have  not  set  foot  in  the  Gallery  of  Sculpture.  I  have 
twice  been  at  the  Louvre  with  Rio  and  De  Triqueti  at  my 
elbow,  and  have  profited  accordingly.  I  have  only  been 
to  the  Opera  once,  and  I  am  going  to  see  '  Rachel '  to- 
night, and  this,  I  think,  comprises  my  whole  history  since 
I  have  been  here. 

Of  M.  de  Triqueti  Mrs.  Jameson  also  wrote 
about  this  time  to  her  friend  Noel,  saying  : 

1  Author  of  La  Pofaic  chrttienne. 


1 1  HAVE  LOVE  AND   WORK  ENOUGH:       177 

I  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  sculptor  here,  who 
more  than  any  other  being  I  ever  met  with,  one  excepted,1 
fulfils  my  idea  of  an  artist ;  nay,  he  is  more  artist,  perhaps, 
but  less  robust  in  mind,  and  with  a  narrower  circle  of 
faculties,  but  as  an  artist  exquisitely  endowed.  His  name 
is  Henri  de  Triqueti  ;  he  is  happily  married,  has  children, 
is  independent,  exists  but  for  his  art  and  his  affections. 
You  will  hear  of  him  some  day  ;  he  has  done  such  beau- 
tiful things !  This  artist,  and  a  very  agreeable  and  accom- 
plished literary  woman,  Italian  by  birth,  are  my  only  new 
acquisitions.  I  do  not  like  new  things  of  any  kind,  not 
even  a  new  gown,  far  less  a  new  acquaintance,  therefore 
make  as  few  as  possible ;  one  can  but  have  one's  heart  and 
hands  full,  and  mine  are.  I  have  love  and  work  enough 
to  last  me  the  rest  of  my  life. 

I  have  read  the  accounts  of  your  somnambulist,  and  am 
much  interested  ;  but  I  am  still  incredulous,  because  I 
have  not  yet  seen  anything  which  has  forced  conviction 
on  me,  and  in  this  case  nothing  but  seeing  is  believing. 
No  experiments  on  myself  have  succeeded,  and  none  that 
I  ever  witnessed  have  satisfied  me.  When  I  am  with  you 
at  Rosawitz,  we  will  enter  on  the  subject,  and  you  shall 
convince  me,  for  I  am  open  to  conviction.  The  mere  con- 
templation of  the  subject,  with  all  its  possible  bearings  and 
results,  strikes  me  with  perplexity,  wonder,  and  awe. 

Mr.  Noel  has  appended  a  note  to  this  letter,  in 
which  he  states  that  the  somnambulist  above  re- 
ferred to  was  a  so-called  ideo-somnambulist,  and  had 

1  I  believe  she  here  alludes  to  their  mutual  friend,  the  sculptor, 
Henry  Behnes  Burlowe,  whose  career  had  been  cut  short  during  the 
fearful  cholera  season  in  Rome,  1837,  and  whose  remains  were  interred 
in  the  Protestant  cemetery  there. 

N 


178  ANNA  JAMESON. 

never  been  subjected  to  experiments.  When  at 
a  later  period  Mrs.  Jameson  was  made  acquainted 
with  the  singular  phenomena  which  had  been  ob- 
served, she  was  very  much  interested  in  the  case. 

One  more  letter  of  hers  I  have  found  of  this 
date,  addressed  to  her  favourite  youngest  sister,  her 
dearly  loved  '  little  Charlotte,'  giving,  as  usual  in  all 
her  charming  home  letters,  details  that  bring  her 
inner  simplicity  of  life  and  character  before  us  : 

A  thousand  thanks  (she  writes)  for  your  most  welcome 
comfortable  letter !  I  go  on  much  more  quietly,  and  mind 
my  business  more  effectually,  when  I  am  at  ease  about  my 
dear  home,  though,  in  the  excess  of  my  self-conceit,  I 
wonder  how  papa  can  possibly  exist  without  'his  little 
Anna.'  I  begin  to  be  uneasy  about  my  letters,  those 
which  are  lying  at  home  for  me ;  and  if,  dear  Charlotte, 
you  could  take  them  down  to  Mrs.  Montagu,  and  ask  her 
if  she  could  forward  them  by  Count  de  Revel,  it  would  be 
a  comfort  to  me.  I  think  they  might  be  made  up  into  two 
packets,  and  so  forwarded  ;  but  to  pay  ten  or  twelve  shil- 
lings postage  I  cannot  afford,  for  my  money  is  going  fast,  and 
I  must  keep  what  will  take  me  home.  My  time  goes,  as 
usual,  in  the  Louvre,  and  making  notes,  and  buying  old 
books  about  the  saints  and  the  Fine  Arts,  in  which  only  I 
have  been  rather  extravagant. 

Monday  last  I  went  to  Versailles,  breakfasted  there  with 
M.  and  Mme.  Rio,  and  then  spent  the  day  at  the  Palace, 
walking  through  it  rather  than  seeing  anything  parti- 
cular. I  must  go  again  and  examine  more  carefully  the 
historical  portraits,  of  which  there  are  five  hundred  or 
more. 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND   WORK  ENOUGH!       179 

Can  you  find  out  when  Adelaide  Kemble  makes  her 
dtbut  at  Covent  Garden  ? 

After  this  period  of  study  and  research,  Mrs. 
Jameson  returned  to  London  for  the  Christmas  of 
1841.  The  words  from  her  own  letter,  which  I 
have  ventured  to  place  at  the  head  of  this  chapter, 
describe  the  actual  condition  of  things  with  her 
better  than  any  other  words  could  possibly  attempt 
to  do.  The  work  was  incessant  and  laborious,  but 
the  love  was  of  that  gentle  domestic  kind  which 
makes  little  show  of  itself,  and  is  in  very  few  instances 
so  complete  a  sustenance  for  the  heart  as  it  proved 
in  her  case.  To  few  persons  well  on  in  the  course 
of  middle  life  would  the  clinging  affection  of  mother 
and  sisters,  the  adoration  of  a  sick  and  sometimes 
exacting  father,  to  whom  this  woman,  already  con- 
scious of  the  pressure  of  years  on  her  own  head, 
was  still  his  '  little  Anna,'  be  '  love  enough  '  to  con- 
sole for  all  the  deprivations  of  fate.  But  it  is  well 
to  have  an  instance  now  and  then  that  family  affec- 
tion is  capable  of  bearing  even  such  a  test.  Literary 
women  have  had  at  all  times  a  large  share  of  the 
easy  ridicule  of  the  inconsiderate,  and  have  been 
often  held  up  to  the  admiration  of  the  world  as 
'  emancipating'  themselves  from  common  ties.  How 
many  among  them  have  been  the  support  and  stay 
of  their  families,  the  one  bread-winner  upon  whom 
many  helpless  or  disabled  relatives  depended,  it  is  not 

N    2 


i8o  ANNA  JAMESON. 


for  me  to  say ;  though  I  believe  the  number  is  out 
of  all  proportion  to  that  of  family  benefactors  in  any 
other  class.  But  I  may  be  permitted,  as  a  member 
of  this  individual  family  in  question,  to  say  how 
entirely  it  hung  upon  this  one  gifted  daughter,  who 
loyally  stood  by  every  member  of  it  in  all  their 
difficulties,  and  kept  the  household  roof  sacred,  and 
had  nothing  so  much  at  heart  as  to  secure  its  happi- 
ness. This  was  my  aunt's  first  thought  at  all  times, 
and  with  all  the  recollections  which  my  memory 
cherishes  of  her  love  and  tenderness,  the  sense  that 
amid  the  impoverishments  of  her  life  she  still  had 
'  love  enough '  to  strengthen  her  for  the  heat  and 
burden  of  the  day  is  to  myself  inexpressibly 
touching,  and  cannot  be  without  interest,  it  seems  to 
me,  to  all  sympathetic  minds. 

This  family  life,  however,  was  about  to  receive  a 
melancholy  check  and  change.  The  father,  who 
had  been  a  source  of  so  much  anxiety  for  many 
years,  and  whose  danger  had  already  more  than 
once  called  her  from  the  midst  of  serious  occupations 
and  interests,  which  she  had  never  hesitated  to  re- 
sign at  this  call,  had  now  reached  the  end  of  his 
lingering  malady,  and  died  a  few  months  after  her 
return  from  France,  in  March  of  the  year  1842, 
leaving  the  mother  and  two  sisters  altogether  de- 
pendent upon  Mrs.  Jameson's  care.  Of  a  loss  so 
natural,  so  long  expected,  and  now  so  far  back  in  the 


'/  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENOUGH:       i8t 

mist  of  years,  there  is  very  little  more  than  the  fact 
to  record ;  but  I  may  quote  here  a  letter  of  Miss 
Martineau's  on  the  subject,  which  gives  a  gratifying 
tribute  to  my  grandfather's  powers  as  an  artist,  and 
at  the  same  time  represents  the  writer  herself  in  a 
more  friendly  and  amiable  light  than  her  posthu- 
mous reflections  upon  all  her  friends  have  left  upon 
her  memory  now.  The  letter  is  written  from  her 
sick-room,  before  the  cure  which  made  so  much 
noise  in  the  world,  and  is  dated  March  26,  1842  : 

For  weeks  I  have  wanted  to  write  to  you,  but  I  have 
been  too  ill  to  write  to  anybody,  except  necessary  notes  in 
pencil.  When  I  mention  blistering  and  salivating,  I  shall 
have  said  enough.  I  hope  I  am  at  last  rising  to  my  usual 
state,  but  I  should  have  waited  much  longer  if  I  had  not 
heard,  first  of  your  increased  distress  about  your  father,  and 
now  of  his  release.  I  cannot  but  hope  that  you  will  all  soon 
feel  peaceful  because  he  is  at  rest.  Long,  long  has  been  his 
and  your  suffering,  and  your  present  blank  will  soon  be 
filled  up  with  a  grateful  sense  of  rest  for  him  and  for 
yourselves.  I  and  mine  had  an  interest  in  him  besides 
his  being  your  father.  He  knew  from  us  how  everlast- 
ingly obliged  we  felt  to  him  for  the  precious  likeness  he 
made  for  us  of  our  most  beloved  brother,  who  died  in 
1824.  Mr.  Murphy  was  interested  in  him,  as  everybody 
was,  and  proved  it  by  presenting  his  very  soul  in  the  por- 
trait. Never  was  there  a  truer  likeness ;  and  the  comfort 
and  pleasure  it  has  been  to  all  of  us  ever  since,  no  words 
can  tell. 

I  hope  Mr.  Murphy  was  able  to  know  of  the  success 
of  your  '  Handbook.'  How  pleased  I  was  to  see  the 


i82  ANNA  JAMESON. 


'  Athenaeum  '  notice  of  it,  and  some  others'!  It  must  be 
about  as  difficult  a  work  to  do  well  as  one  could  set  him- 
self to,  requiring  a  variety  of  powers  of  knowledge,  and 
thoroughly  good  judges  seem  to  think  you  have  done  it. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  Miss  Martineau's  congratulations 
on  the  success  of  the  '  Handbook,'  her  sympathies 
were  not  heartily  with  Mrs.  Jameson's  art  labours 
at  any  time.  Art  was  no  weakness  of  hers,  and  in  a 
letter  dated  shortly  before,  she  had  written  a  propos 
of  this  very  work  :  '  Do  have  done  with  your  me- 
chanical work  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  give  us  more 
of  your  own  mind.  Till  then  I  rest  on  your  Canada 
book,  which  is  very  dear  to  me.' 

The  only  other  record  I  find  of  her  father's  death 
is  contained  in  the  following  letter  to  Miss  Sedgwick, 
who  by  this  time  had  returned  to  her  home  in  Mas- 
sachusetts. 

It  is  long  since  I  have  written  to  you,  dearest  Catherine, 
long  since  I  have  heard  from  you.  One  might  as  well 
have  one's  friend  in  heaven  as  across  the  Atlantic.  I 
know  not  what  has  come  over  me  of  late.  I  try  to  be 
cheerful  and  see  things  from  a  bright  point  of  view ;  but 
do  you  remember  what  I  once,  and  more  than  once,  have 
said  to  you,  that  absence  and  partings  have  been  the  curses 
of  my  existence  ?  I  am  afraid  I  have  neither  religion 
enough,  nor  philosophy  enough,  nor  youth  enough,  nor 
life  enough,  to  exist  through  faith  in  the  absent  and  the 
distant  and  the  invisible ;  and  when  I  take  up  the  pen  to 
write  to  you,  I  am  so  painfully  struck  by  the  hopelessness 
of  our  separation  in  this  world,  that  I  could  almost  throw 


'I  HAVE  LOVE  AND  WORK  ENO UGH:        1 83 

it  down  again  with  an  '  a  quoi  bon  ?  '  And  then  the  past 
comes  over  me  again,  and  I  see  your  kind,  affectionate  face 
before  me,  and  I  feel  that  I  cannot  afford  to  be  forgotten 
by  you,  my  good  and  dear  friend. 

When  I  wrote  to  you  last,  my  father's  life  was  fast 
hurrying  to  a  close.  About  a  fortnight  later  he  died.  You 
know  all  this,  perhaps,  and  you  ought  to  have  heard  it 
from  myself.  But — I  know  not  why  or  how  it  was — I  could 
not  write.  I  had  prepared  you  for  it,  and  I  knew  you 
would  hear  it.  There  was  terrible  previous  suffering,  a 
long,  gradual  agony  ;  but  the  last  few  hours  were  peaceful 
and  without  pain.  He  was  conscious,  and  his  mind  and 
affections  alive,  till  within  twenty -four  hours  of  his  death. 
I  have  since  had  much  to  arrange,  and  am  now  in  the 
midst  of  trouble  and  perplexity  ;  but  all  will  be  clear 
before  me  soon. 

Of  our  mutual  friends  here  Mrs.  Grote  has  spent  the 
winter  abroad,  and  returned  home  only  within  these  few 
days,  looking  thin  and  worn,  but  her  mind  full  to  over- 
flowing, and  her  heart  as  warm  as  ever.  Mrs.  Austin  is 
settled  at  Dresden.  My  principal  comfort  through  all  the 
misery  of  the  last  six  months  has  been  in  the  constant 
kindness  and  affection  of  Lady  Byron.  When  I  run  over 
thus  the  list  of  my  friends,  and  add  my  mother  and  family, 
can  you  not  imagine  with  what  feelings  I  contemplate  the 
expediency  of  going  to  Germany  ?  The  parting  with  Lady 
Byron  will  cost  me  most  it  will  be  a  pang,  a  wrench,  like 
an  uprooting. 


1 84  ANNA  JAMESON. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

* 

FRIENDS. 

MR.  MURPHY'S  death  made  several  family  changes 
possible  and  expedient.  Her  mother  and  sisters 
became  now  Mrs.  Jameson's  chief  care.  The  house 
which  they  had  occupied  at  Netting  Hill  was  given 
up,  and  the  family  established  themselves  in  a 
smaller  house  at  Ealing.  During  all  this  time  her 
own  desire  to  go  abroad  for  some  years  had  never 
been  abandoned,  as  the  frequent  allusions,  and,  in- 
deed, perpetual  plans  and  preparations,  show ;  and 
the  new  habitation  was  chosen  rather  for  the  com- 
fort and  quiet  of  the  family  than  for  her  own. 
Possibly  the  near  neighbourhood  to  Lady  Byron's 
house,  Fordhook,  had  suggested  the  choice  of  the 
then  small  village  of  Ealing  as  a  residence  to 
which  she  herself  might  come  to  rest  from  time  to 
time.1  But  her  fixed  plan  was  to  go  to  Germany 
and  Italy.  She  had,  indeed,  many  inducements  for 

1  Lady  Byron  quitted  Fordhook  for  Esher  in  the  course  of  this 
year. 


FRIENDS.  185 

this  much-desired  journey ;  not  only  the  desire  to 
meet  once  more  friends  to  whom  she  was  warmly 
attached,  but  the  intention  of  preparing  more  ade- 
quately for  the  work  she  had  been  for  a  long  time 
turning  over  in  her  mind,  the  series  of  volumes  that 
proved  the  most  important  undertaking  of  her  life, 
her  books  upon  '  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art.' 

But  delay  after  delay  intervened,  and  the  scheme 
of  travel  she  had  at  heart  was  not  even  commenced 
till  three  years  later. 

I  will  endeavour  here  to  give  some  idea  of  the 
friendships  which  were  the  solace  of  my  aunt's  life 
at  this  period  of  her  career.  By  right  of  age,  and 
because  of  the  great  reputation  as  a  poet  which  was 
once  so  willingly  conceded  to  her,  and  which  it  is  now 
so  difficult  to  realise,  the  first  is  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie, 
from  whom  (in  addition  to  the  one  already  given) 
I  may  quote  one  or  two  letters,  in  which  the  kind, 
courteous,  sensible  old  Scotch  gentlewoman  is  more 
apparent  than  the  poet.  On  one  of  my  aunt's  visits 
to  Hampstead,  shortly  after  this  time,  she  took  me, 
then  a  child,  and  just  beginning  to  enter  upon  the 
privilege  I  afterwards  enjoyed  more  fully  of  going 
with  her  wherever  she  went,  as  her  companion. 

The  idea  of  going  to  see  the  authoress  of 
'  De  Montfort '  and  '  Basil,'  the  tragic  verse  that 
had  fed  my  childish  fancy  for  the  mysterious  and 
poetical,  was  in  itself  somewhat  awful.  But  when 


i86  ANNA  JAMESON. 

we  reached  the  little  house  in  which  the  sisters 
lived,  I  am  not  sure  that  the  relief  with  which  I 
found  myself  nestling  to  the  side  of  a  gently-smiling, 
white-haired  old  lady,  whose  dignity  could  conde- 
scend to  amuse  her  child-visitor  with  tales  of  the 
second  sight  and  thrilling  ghost  stories  which  she 
had  heard  from  Sir  Walter  Scott,  all-puissant  au- 
thority to  her  small  listener,  was  not  slightly 
tinctured  with  disappointment.  It  was  a  disillusion 
to  an  imaginative  child,  fed  upon  poetry  from  her 
earliest  years,  to  find  one  whom  she  had  heard 
spoken  of  as  a  great  poet,  only,  after  all,  a  kind  old 
lady,  though  one  of  the  kindest  of  the  kind.  The 
other  old  lady  of  the  house,  the  Sister  Agnes,  to 
whom  Mrs.  Joanna  devoted  her  tenderest  care,  and 
who  sat  by  the  fireside,  wearing,  always,  the  quaintest 
of  black  bonnets,  was  a  bewildering  figure,  and  oc- 
cupied a  large  place  in  the  confused  recollections  of 
the  visit  so  much  looked  forward  to. 

Now,  indeed,  the  fact  of  having  spent  a  day  at 
Hampstead  with  Joanna  Baillie,  comes  back  to  the 
memory  as  one  of  the  pleasantest  recollections  of  a 
lifetime ;  the  simplicity,  in  itself  heroic,  of  the  poet 
and  her  surroundings,  can  be  appreciated  better 
than  at  that  early  age  when  the  ideal  appeared 
somewhat  trenched  on  by  the  real,  and  the  tragic 
muse  in  domestic  life  suffered  some  loss  of  starry 
effulgence. 


FRIENDS.  187 


The  letter  which  I  quote  is  dated  November 
1842,  and  shows  us  something  of  the  other  friend 
to  whom  both  the  writer  and  her  correspondent 
clung  so  affectionately,  and  of  their  feelings  towards 
her: 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — I  thank  you  for  your  very 
kind  note  received  yesterday,  along  with  a  short  despatch 
from  Lady  Byron,  and  some  very  mournful  letters  from 
America,  informing  me  of  the  death  of  Dr.  Channing.  I 
would  scarcely  write  to  you  now,  were  I  not  afraid  that 
you  might  have  left  Esher  if  I  delayed.  The  verses  you 
have  been  kind  enough  to  transcribe  for  me  are  beautiful,1 
and  were  they  found  among  any  new  version  of  Words- 
worth's poems,  they  would  be  very  much  admired.  The 
leading  thought  that  runs  through  the  whole  is  true  and 
striking,  and,  I  think,  original.  Yet  I  have  verses  of  hers 
that  I  like  still  better.  She  is,  '  take  her  for  all  in  all,'  a 
very  extraordinary  creature.  The  lines  on  your  portrait 
by  your  father  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see,  and  in  looking 
at  the  miniature  itself  I  will  take  my  chance  of  all  the 
changes  you  threaten  me  with.  A  looking-forward  face 
has  the  advantage  no  doubt  in  expression,  but  your  look- 
ing-back  face  has  gained  in  variety  what  it  may  have  lost 
in  eager  anticipation,  and  we  have  no  right  to  find  fault 
with  it  at  all. 

I  must  now  return  to  what  has  for  hours  past  most 
occupied  my  thoughts,  the  loss  we  have  all  sustained  in 
the  death  of  that  highly  gifted  and  excellent  man.  He 
has  done  the  present  generation  much  good,  and,  had  he 
been  spared  in  the  world,  might  have  done^  much  more. 


This  refers  to  a  little  poem  by  Lady  Byron. 


1 88  ANNA  JAMESON. 

The  brightness  of  his  character  had  a  sweetness  belonging 
to  it  akin  to  the  beings  of  a  better  world,  to  which  he  was 
constantly  pointing  the  way.  Miss  Sedgwick  has  given  me 
some  account  of  his  last  illness,  and  it  was  very  kind  in 
her  to  write,  for  her  eyes  are  so  weak  she  is  forbid  to  do 
so,  and  she  has  had  great  affliction  from  deaths  in  her  own 
family. 

The  account  you  give  of  your  friend  Miss  Martineau  is 
very  interesting,  and  one  cannot  but  admire  her  more  than 
ever,  bearing  up  so  nobly  under  circumstances  that  would 
have  depressed  almost  everyone  else,  I  feel  myself  greatly 
flattered  by  her  kind  remembrance.  Little  did  I  think 
during  that  last  short  visit  how  much  suffering  lay  before 
her,  and  that  we  (for  so  it  must  be)  should  never  meet 
again. 

I  have  already  referred  several  times  to  the  en- 
thusiastic friendship  which  had  sprung  up  between 
my  aunt  and  Lady  Byron.  Almost  all  the  leisure  she 
had  from  her  many  occupations  was  spent  with  Lady 
Byron,  either  at  Esher,  from  which  favourite  residence 
the  pretty  pair  of  chestnuts  came  often  to  the  nest  at 
Ealing  to  carry  back  Mrs.  Jameson  across  the  quiet 
country  roads,  or  in  London,  or  at  Brighton ;  and 
in  the  intervals  of  personal  intercourse  an  incessant 
correspondence  was  maintained  between  them.  The 
remarkable  woman  of  whom  the  world  has  heard  so 
much,  and  knows  so  little,  had  evidently  seized 
upon  Mrs.  Jameson's  imagination  as  well  as  her 
heart.  Lady  Byron's  character  was  a  source  of  un- 
failing and  unceasing  wonder  and  admiration  to  her, 


FRIENDS.  189 

claiming  the  interest  of  an  intellectual  problem,  as 
well  as  the  love  of  devoted  friendship.  At  first 
beginning  it  was,  perhaps,  the  interest  rather  than 
the  warmer  tie  between  them  that  chiefly  shows 
itself  in  the  constant  references  to  Lady  Byron  in 
Mrs.  Jameson's  letters  ;  but  the  affection  grew  more 
absorbing  as  time  went  on,  and  at  the  period  (1844) 
which  we  have  now  reached,  it  was  in  its  fullest 
tide.  The  sphinx-woman,  so  continually  wondered 
at  in  her  lifetime,  so  unhappily  betrayed  after  her 
death,  to  whom  at  first  my  aunt  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  attracted  except  by  the  curious  interest 
which  a  character  so  impenetrable  always  awakens, 
had  so  far  unfolded  herself  as  to  win  the  warmest 
sympathy  and  tenderness  of  a  mind  so  attuned  to 
friendship. 

What  amount  of  confidence  there  was  between 
them  on  subjects  only  too  painfully  discussed 
since  then,  I  am  happily  unable  to  say.  Mrs. 
Jameson  was  singularly  free  from  all  inclination 
towards  the  miserable  investigations  of  social  scan- 
dal. Her  friend,  afterwards  her  neighbour,  the 
noble  lady,  so  distinguished  as  the  poet's  wife,  so 
impressive  as  the  poet's  widow,  mysterious  in  at- 
traction and  repulsion,  an  historical  character  though 
a  living  woman,  was  to  myself  one  of  the  awful  but 
beneficent  deities  to  whom  youth  looks  up  with  in- 
stinctive dread,  yet  with  dumb  criticism.  Her  name 


i9o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

cannot  be  passed  over  without  a  word.  That,  at 
least,  her  strange  fate  has  secured  her,  whether  or 
not  the  veil  that  is  over  her  life  may  ever  be  fairly 
and  honestly  withdrawn. 

There  is  scarcely  a  letter  of  this  period  which 
has  not  some  allusion  in  it  to  '  Lady  B.,'  whose 
share  in  everything  Mrs.  Jameson  was  doing  or 
thinking  seems  to  have  been  taken  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

And  it  was  during  the  course  of  this  summer 
that  Mrs.  Jameson  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miss 
Barrett,  I  believe  through  the  good  offices  of  Mr. 
Kenyon,  their  mutual  friend.  Mrs.  Jameson  was 
at  the  time  staying  with  Miss  Caroline  Kindersley, 
at  51  Wimpole  Street,  next  door  to  the  house  in 
which  Miss  Barrett  resided.  This  early  period  of 
their  acquaintance  produced  a  multitude  of  tiny 
notes  in  fairy  handwriting,  such  as  Miss  Barrett  was 
wont  to  indite  to  her  friends,  and  which  are  still  in 
existence.  Some  of  these  are  most  charming  and 
characteristic,  and  illustrate  the  rise  and  rapid  in- 
crease of  a  friendship  that  never  faltered  or  grew 
cool  from  that  time  up  to  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Jameson. 

One  of  the  first  which  I  have  found  addressed 
to  'dear  Mrs.  Jameson/  a  name  speedily  changed, 
as  circumstances  brought  them  into  closer  inter- 
course, for  one  more  endearing  and  familiar,  play- 


FRIENDS. 


191 


fully  discusses  the  writer's  loss  of  voice,  which  was 
one  of  the  occasional  troubles  of  her  invalid  con- 
dition : 

I  am  used  to  lose  my  voice  and  find  it  again  (Miss 
Barrett  writes),  until  the  vicissitude  comes  to  appear  as 
natural  to  me  as  the  post  itself.  .  .  .  You  are  not  to  think 
that  I  should  not  have  been  delighted  to  have  you  in  a 
monodram,  as  I  heard  Mr.  Kenyon  one  morning  when  he 
came  and  talked  for  an  hour,  as  he  can  talk,  while  the 
audience  could  only  clap  her  hands  or  shake  her  head  for 
the  yea  and  nay.  I  should  have  been  delighted  to  be  just 
such  an  audience  to  you,  but  with  you  I  was  too  much  a 
stranger  to  propose  such  a  thing,  and  the  necessary  silence 
might  have  struck  you,  I  thought,  as  ungrateful  and  un- 
comprehending. But  now  I  am  not  dumb  any  longer, 
only  hoarse,  and  whenever  I  can  hear  your  voice  it  will  be 
better  for  me  altogether. 

Amid  all  these  new  relationships,  however,  the 
most  constant  and  lasting  of  all,  my  aunt's  intimacy 
with  Mr.  Noel  and  his  wife,  continued  fervent  and 
faithful  as  ever — a  friendship  full  of  mutual  good 
offices,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  following  letter  : 

Do  not  send  me  any  German  translations  which  are 
not  your  own,  and,  above  all,  no  tales.  Letters  or  essays 
which  should  give  some  account  of  art  or  literature  might 
be  available,  or,  indeed,  any  information  on  which  I  could 
depend,  however  expressed,  would  be  welcome  to  me ;  but 
there  are  in  London  such  a  colony  of  translators  and  small 
literati — Americans,  Germans,  English,  there  is  no  end  ! — 
and  I  cannot  mix  myself  up  with  them.  It  is  a  scramble, 


1 92  ANNA  JAMESON. 

a  competition,  to  supply  the  cheap  libraries,  periodicals,  &c., 
which  exceeds  everything  heretofore  known. 

Have  you  heard  that  Combe  has  written  an  article  on 
'  Phrenology '  applied  to  the  Fine  Arts  ?  It  reminds  me 
sorrowfully  of  those  no  more,  of  the  past — but  neither  on 
this  will  I  dwell.  There  is  another  book  of  which  a  new 
edition  is  published,  which  has  a  great  interest  for  me, 
'  The  Anatomy  of  Expression,'  by  Sir  Charles  Bell,  the 
famous  surgeon.  Do  you  know  it  ?  I  am  living  here 
quietly,  but  only  within  these  few  days  have  I  been  capable 
of  anything.  I  am  engaged  on  a  book  whicji  describes 
and  explains  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  illus- 
trated in  painting,  &c.  This  is  not  in  your  way  at  all, 
and  is  even  contrary  to  all  your  cherished  views  and  pursuits 
— this  looking  backward  instead  of  looking  forward.  But 
such  are  my  tastes.  Art  in  all  its  forms  is  my  only  con- 
solation. I  leave  philosophy  and  philanthropy  to  you  and 
Lady  B. 

To  resume,  however,  in  something  like  chrono- 
logical order — the  beginning  of  the  year  1843  was 
full  of  the  same  ever  repeated,  but  for  the  most  part 
impracticable,  plans.  The  year  that  had  just  come 
to  a  close  had  been  clouded  with  considerable  anxiety 
and  doubt  as  to  the  prospects  of  the  family  and 
her  own  capability  of  steering  them  safely  through 
the  storms  and  troubles  of  the  moment — doubts 
which,  however,  were  always  conquered  by  cheerful 
courage  and  labour,  in  neither  of  which  does  she 
ever  fail.  Her  own  letters  will  sufficiently  show 
the  state  of  her  mind  and  circumstances  after  all  she 
had  gone  through  : 


FRIENDS.  193 


Baling,  January  2,  1843. — The  first  letter  I  write  this 
new  year  shall  be  to  you,  my  friends  ;  and  I  pray  God  bless 
you  both  with  all  my  heart,  this  year  and  every  year. 
One  of  the  best  wishes  I  could  form  for  myself  would  be 
that  we  may  meet.  I  can  but  do  my  best,  for  a  heavy 
responsibility  lies  on  me.  Very  glad  am  I  to  see  the  end 
of  old  '42,  and  thankful  to  stand  firm  upon  my  feet  in  this 
working-day  world,  for  I  have  had  some  severe  struggles 
this  past  year.  But  they  are  over,  thank  God,  and  my 
view  into  the  next  year  is  not  discouraging. 

I  have  not  seen  Lady  B.  for  some  time,  a  fortnight  or 
three  weeks  ;  but  I  hear  from  her  constantly.  I  can  tell 
you,  for  your  comfort,  that  since  her  very  serious  illness  in 
August  and  September,  which  frightened  me  in  earnest, 
she  has  been  gradually  improving  in  health  and  looks,  and 
is  now  better  in  every  respect  than  I  have  ever  seen  her. 
I  think  her  greatest  care  is  Lady  Lovelace's  health.  She 
is  far  from  well  or  strong.  They  are  very  happy  to- 
gether. 

Early  in  March  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  : 

My  own  situation  is  not  at  present  very  happy,  except  in 
this,  that  I  have  done  all  I  set  myself  to  do  last  year.  I  must 
confine  myself  for  this  next  year  to  the  most  rigid  economy, 
in  order  to  meet  the  demands  on  me,  and  then  I  am  free. 
I  calculate  that  towards  the  end  of  this  year  I  shall  have 
paid  every  debt  of  my  father  and  sisters,  and  have  insured 
my  life  for  6oo/.  When  this  is  done,  I  am  a  free  woman, 
but  not  till  then.  My  mother's  health  is  not  good.  I  am 
living  with  her  in  a  little  cottage  in  which  our  grandest 
room  is  perhaps  some  twelve  feet  square.  We  are  about 
seven  miles  from  town.  I  go  occasionally  for  a  day  or 
two,  but  most  of  my  time  is  spent  in  writing  and  study. 


i94  ANNA  JAMESON. 

And  a  few  weeks  later  she  says  : 

I  go  on  much  as  usual,  thinking  with  a  sigh  of  all  my 
German  projects,  of  you  and  Rosawitz,  of  my  dear  Ottilie. 
But  one  must  do  one's  duty,  and  from  England  I  cannot 
go  yet.  My  position  is  not  a  happy  one,  but  neither  is  it 
unhappy.  I  take  interest  in  my  work  of  every  kind,  and 
have  many  things  in  hand. 

In  this  year  it  was  that  Mrs.  Jameson  first  took 
a  part  in  those  politico-moral  discussions,  specially 
on  subjects  affecting  women,  which  called  forth  so 
warm  an  interest  in  her  mind  in  after  years.  That 
she  had  already  thought  much  on  the  subject  is 
sufficiently  apparent  from  many  eloquent  passages 
in  her  published  works,  and  in  the  striking  reflec- 
tions upon  home  life  and  the  special  characteristics 
of  women  in  various  countries  with  which  her 
readers  were  already  familiar.  But  she  had  not 
yet  dared  the  dangers  of  popular  controversy,  nor 
shown  herself  in  a  field  where  women  in  general 
meet  with  but  little  mercy,  and  often  scant  justice. 
Her  attention,  however,  had  been  attracted  by  the 
report  of  the  commissioners  specially  appointed  to 
investigate  the  subject  of  the  employment  of  young 
children  in  the  mining  and  manufacturing  districts, 
and  she  could,  no  longer  keep  silence,  but  added 
her  indignant  protest  to  the  facts  there  recorded. 
The  same  report  had  been  the  inspiration  of  the 
poem  called  the  '  Cry  of  the  Children,'  written 


FRIENDS.  195 

by  Elizabeth  Barrett,  whose  fame  was  then  yet  at 
its  dawning;  and  at  the  same  time  had  stirred 
the  hearts  of  all  reading  and  thinking  women 
throughout  the  country.  Mrs.  Jameson  took  up 
the  subject  of  the  condition  of  the  women  and  fe- 
male children,  with  all  the  earnest  fervour  and  broad 
Christian  courage  of  expression,  that  such  a  topic 
invariably  inspired  her  with,  then  and  thereafter. 
The  article  itself  was  published  in  the  columns  of 
the  '  Athenaeum.'  She  speaks  of  this  in  one  of  her 
letters  to  Mr.  Noel  with  much  earnest  feeling  : 

There  was  a  paper  of  mine  in  the  '  Athenaeum '  last 
Saturday  on  the  condition  of  the  women  of  the  lower 
classes  in  England,  which  I  should  have  liked  you  and 
Louisa  to  have  read.  We  are  in  a  strange  condition  in 
this  country  ;  things  are  ripening  (or  rottening)  into  a  change 
of  some  kind. 

In  the  autumn,  Mrs.  Jameson  went  away  from 
London  for  a  couple  of  months'  rest  from  her  daily 
toils  and  anxieties.  She  was  tempted  to  prolong 
her  absence  for  a  longer  period  than  she  had  con- 
templated, and  gives  a  rfaimd  of  her  experiences  in 
a  letter  to  her  favourite  correspondent,  in  the  latter 
part  of  which  will  be  found  a  little  outburst  of  her 
Irish  patriotism. 

Ealing,  December  7,  1843. — My  journey  to  Scotland  was 
accidental.  I  left  town  on  account  of  my  health  and  my 
eyes,  much  overworked  and  tired  out.  At  Malvern  I 

o  2 


196  ANNA  JAMESON. 

met  Lady  Byron  and  Mrs.  Harry  Siddons,  and  spent  a 
week  there ;  then  went  to  the  Bracebridges  and  to  Lord 
Hatherton's ;  and  then  my  friend  Lady  Monson  caught  me 
up  in  Staffordshire,  and  took  me  into  Berwickshire.  There 
I  spent  a  quiet  month  at  a  lovely  spot  called  Carolside,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Abbotsford,  Dryburgh,  Melrose,  the 
Lammermoors,  and  other  scenes  of  ballad  and  romance. 
Thence  I  went  to  Edinburgh,  and  spent  a  week  with  Mrs. 
Harry  Siddons  and  her  daughter.  I  had  never  known 
Mrs.  Siddons  before  ;  you,  dear  Noel,  will  be  pleased  to 
hear  that  we  are  become  fast  friends.  I  found  her  all  I 
had  liked  to  fancy  her  from  your  description  and  Lady 
Byron's — gentle,  refined,  good  in  the  inmost  foldings  of  her 
heart,  one  who  had  looked  on  life  thoughtfully ;  while  the 
artistic  colouring  which  her  profession  and  pursuits  had 
shed  over  her  mind  and  character  was  to  me  an  additional 
charm.  I  took  leave  of  Mrs.  Harry  with  a  sad  feeling,  for 
it  is  too  true  that  her  health  is  failing,  and  more  rapidly 
than  those  who  most  love  her  are  aware  of.  But  she  is 
herself  prepared  for  all  things. 

On  my  return  to  London  a  fortnight  ago,  I  found  Lady 
Byron  looking  rather  better  than  usual,  and  her  mind  prin- 
cipally occupied  by  cares  for  her  grandchildren,  whom  she 
has  taken  on  her  hands  till  Christmas,  I  believe. 

It  has  struck  me  that  the  enclosed  letter  may  be  of  use 
to  you,  that  a  translation  or  redaction  of  it  might  be  pub- 
lished in  Germany.  It  was  written  by  Harriet  Martineau, 
and  is  addressed  to  the  sympathisers  with  Repeal.  It 
appears  to  me  to  be  a  very  clever  r&nmt  of  the  state  of 
Ireland  with  regard  to  parties,  and  would  enable  German 
sympathisers,  and  those  who  read  Mr.  Kohl's  very  clever 
and  amusing  but  rather  superficial  book  of  travels  in 
Ireland,  to  judge  better  of  the  present  state  of  things.  I 
must  observe,  however,  that  though  I  do  not  myself  wish 


FRIENDS.  197 

for  the  disunion  of  the  two  countries,  my  feelings  are  with 
O'Connell  and  the  people.  There  is  an  old  Scotch  proverb 
which  says,  '  Mint  at  a  golden  gown  and  ye'll  get  the 
sleeve  o't ' — in  other  words,  cry  out  '  Repeal '  (or  rather 
'  Repale ')  and  you'll  get  some  of  that  justice  and  redress 
which  has  been  for  centuries  withheld  from  you.  And 
then  the  moral  courage  which  the  people  have  shown,  their 
self-denial.  Admirable,  generous  people !  I  am  really 
proud  of  my  countrymen.  Miserable,  ignorant,  ragged 
though  they  be,  they  are  the  only  people  in  Europe  now 
who  are  acting  simultaneously  on  a  high  principle  ;  among 
whom  poetry  is  not  a  thing  of  words,  but  of  act  and 
deed. 

To  this  same  journey  north  refers  a  letter  from 
Joanna  Baillie,  dated  Hampstead,  November  3, 
replying  evidently  to  some  slight  animadversions  on 
her  beloved  native  land,  frankly  indulged  in  by 
Mrs.  Jameson,  who  had  found  herself  in  Edinburgh 
for  the  first  time,  of  all  days  in  the  year,  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  General  Fast.  I  give  this  letter  of 
my  aunt's  venerable  friend  in  its  entirety,  though  I 
am  warned  by  friends  of  my  own  that  Mrs.  Joanna's 
opinions  about  Scotch  contemporary  history — 
opinions  confessedly  formed  on  hearsay — are  not 
much  to  be  relied  upon,  and  show  no  very  profound 
understanding  of  the  subject  involved. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — Next  to  enjoying  the  varied 
views  of  a  beloved  and  romantic  land  with  one's  own  eyes, 
to  think  that  a  friend  is  enjoying  them  is  the  greatest 
pleasure,  particularly  one  so  well  fitted  to  describe  them  as 


19$  ANNA  JAMESON. 

yourself.  I  was  thinking  of  you  in  the  meantime  as  with 
your  family  at  Baling,  or  wandering  with  some  friend 
along  the  coasts  of  Kent  or  Sussex.  But  you  have  been 
better  off  (don't  be  offended  with  me  for  saying  so),  and  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  friendly  and  reviving 
letter.  I  may  well  say  reviving,  for  we  have  been  station- 
ary ori  the  Hill  ever  since  we  last  saw  you,  while  the 
greater  part  of  our  intimate  neighbours  have  been  scattered 
about  on  the  continent  and  watering-places  nearer  home. 
The  latter  part  of  the  time,  too,  has  been  passed  in  a  con- 
fusion of  note-writing  and  applications  to  get  a  poor  boy 
elected  into  the  London  Orphan  Asylum,  and  truly  we  are 
quite  tired  of  it.  My  sister  took  the  most  active  part  of 
the  business,  and  I  am  thankful  to  say  it  has  not  done  her 
any  harm.  We  are  both  as  well  as  usual. 

You  will  hear  about  Lady  Byron  from  Mrs.  Henry 
Siddons,  who  was  much  with  her  in  the  north  of  England 
not  long  ago.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  from  you  that  her 
malady,  in  the  opinion  of  her  medical  adviser,  may  yet  be 
grappled  with  and  overcome.  I  heartily  agree  with  all 
your  good  wishes  for  her.  She  is  a  most  respectable  as  well 
as  agreeable  woman,  and  has  conducted  herself  through  a 
life  of  many  cares  and  troubles  in  a  very  exemplary 
manner.  Pray  offer  her  my  kindest  remembrances  when 
you  meet. 

I  feel  mournfully  what  you  say  of  the  moral  state  of 
my  country,  contrasted  with  its  beauty  and  grandeur.  You 
have  come  to  it  at  an  unhappy  time,  when  people  are  all 
quarrelling  about  religion,  and  everyone  thinks  himself  or 
herself  wiser  than  their  neighbours  ;  and  the  lay  patrons  of 
the  various  parishes  are  replacing  the  clergy  who  have 
seceded  with  others  as  wrong-headed  and  bigoted,  to 
please  the  people.  So  I  hear  from  an  intelligent  friend 
who  generally  views  these  subjects  with  great  calmness,  I 


FRIENDS. 


199 


remember  well  in  old  times  the  stillness  of  a  Fast-day,  but 
it  was  a  stillness  of  solemnity,  not  of  form  ;  and  the  sacra- 
ment being  given  in  most  parishes  as  a  yearly  commemo- 
ration of  the  greatest  event  that  ever  took  place  upon 
earth,  the  people  received  from  it  a  deeper  impression  than 
we  may  suppose  they  do  in  this  country,  where  it  is  ad- 
ministered every  month. 

I  now  take  my  leave,  dear  Mrs.  Jameson,  wishing  you 
much  joy  of  what  remains  to  you  of  your  Scotch  excur- 
sions, and  giving  you  many  thanks  for  so  kindly  thinking 
of  me  in  your  visits  to  the  mountains  and  the  muirs. 
Come  back  well,  and  accept  my  sister's  best  wishes  and 

love  along  with  mine. 

Affectionately  yours, 

J.  BAILLIE. 

After  these  allusions  to  my  aunt's  visit  to  Scot- 
land, I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  here  a  beautiful 
scrap  from  her  '  Commonplace  Book,'  embodying  the 
reflections  of  a  summer  Sunday  at  the  place  named 
in  her  letter  to  Mr.  Noel,  Carolside  : 

This  present  Sunday  I  set  off  with  the  others  to  walk 
to  church,  but  was  late ;  I  could  not  keep  up  with  the 
pedestrians,  and,  not  to  delay  them,  I  turned  back.  I 
wandered  down  the  hill  path  to  the  river  bank,  and  crossed 
the  little  bridge  and  strolled  along,  pensive,  yet  with  no 
definite  or  continuous  subject  of  thought. 

How  beautiful  it  was,  how  tranquil !  not  a  cloud  in  the 
blue  sky,  not  a  breath  of  air.  '  And  where  the  dead  leaf 
fell  there  did  it  rest ; '  but  so  still  it  was  that  scarce  a 
single  leaf  did  flutter  or  fall,  though  the  narrow  pathway 
along  the  water's  edge  was  already  encumbered  with  heaps 
of  decaying  foliage. 


200  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Everywhere  around  the  autumnal  tints  prevailed,  ex- 
cept in  one  sheltered  place  under  the  towering  cliff,  where 
a  single  tree,  a  magnificent  lime,  still  flourished  in  summer 
luxuriance  with  not  a  leaf  turned  or  shed.  I  stood  still 
opposite,  looking  on  it  quietly  for  a  long  time  ;  it  seemed 
to  me  a  guardian  Dryad  would  not  suffer  it  to  be  defaced. 
Then  I  turned,  for  close  beside  me  sounded  the  soft,  half- 
suppressed  warble  of  a  bird,  sitting  on  a  leafless  spray 
which  seemed  to  bend  with  its  tiny  weight.  Some  lines 
which  I  used  to  love  in  my  childhood  came  into  my  mind, 
blending  softly  with  the  presences  around  me  : 

The  little  bird  now,  to  salute  the  morn, 
Upon  the  naked  branches  sets  her  foot, 
The  leaves  still  lying  at  the  mossy  root, 
And  there  a  silly  chirruping  doth  keep, 
As  if  she  fain  would  sing,  yet  fain  would  weep  ; 
Praising  fair  summer  that  too  soon  is  gone, 
And  sad  for  winter  too  soon  coming  on  ! 

The  river,  where  I  stood,  taking  an  abrupt  turn,  ran 
wimpling  by  ;  not  as  I  had  seen  it  but  a  few  days  before, 
rolling  tumultuously,  the  dead  leaves  whirling  in  its  eddies, 
swollen  and  turbid  with  the  mountain  torrents,  making  one 
think  of  the  kelpies,  the  water  wraiths,  and  such  uncanny 
things,  but  gentle,  transparent,  and  flashing  in  the  low 
sunlight.  Even  the  barberries  drooping  with  rich  crimson 
clusters  over  the  little  pools  near  the  .bank,  and  reflected 
in  them  as  in  a  mirror,  I  remember  vividly,  as  a  part  of 
the  exquisite  loveliness  which  seemed  to  melt  into  my  life. 
For  such  moments  we  are  grateful ;  we  feel  then  what  God 
can  do  for  us,  and  what  man  can  not. — Carolsidc,  Novem- 
ber 5,  1843. 

In^  the  meanwhile,  though  Mrs.  Jameson  says 
little  about  it,  and  only  one  allusion  to  it  in  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Noel  will  be  found  among  the  quotations  I 


FRIENDS.  aot 

have  made,  her  mind  was  occupied  with  the  great 
work  commenced  in  1842,  though  planned  long  pre- 
vious to  that  date,  and  '  often  laid  aside  and  resumed,' 
which  was  to  increase  her  reputation  so  greatly,  and 
upon  which,  indeed,  at  the  present  it  may  be  said 
chiefly  to  rest.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  over-esti- 
mate the  varied  and  careful  study,  the  minute  re- 
search, the  strain  of  observation  and  recollection, 
which  such  a  work  made  necessary.  For  years  past 
her  collection  of  notes  and  tracings  of  the  multi- 
farious subjects  which  were  found  indispensable  to 
illustrate  the  work,  had  been  carried  on  steadily, 
whatever  might  be  the  minor  labours  which  occupied 
her.  Though  she  had  been  tempted  towards  the 
field  of  philanthropic  politics,  it  was  still  true,  as  she 
herself  says,  that  art  was  her  only  consolation,  and 
without  any  diminution  of  interest  in  the  public 
questions  which  at  a  later  period  occupied  so  much 
of  her  thoughts,  the  first  and  favourite  topic  for 
which  she  had  shown  so  much  instinctive  taste  in 
her  very  earliest  productions,  before  her  art  edu- 
cation could  be  said  to  have  begun,  always  held  the 
mastery.  She  has  herself  recorded  '  the  pleasure  I 
took  in  a  task  so  congenial,'  and  has  described  her 
studies  as  '  a  source  of  vivid  enjoyment'  At  all 
times  she  speaks  of  her  interest  in  her  work  as  one 
of  the  greatest  satisfactions  of  her  life. 

In   October   news   came  from   Germany  of   a 


202  ANNA  JAMESON. 

terrible  sorrow  that  had  come  upon  the  Goethe 
family.  Mrs,  Jameson's  dear  friend  Ottilie  lost 
her  only  daughter — a  lovely  girl  of  seventeen — by 
a  sharp  and  sudden  attack  of  malignant  fever.  In 
a  letter  to  Mr.  Noel,  dated  October  21,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son speaks  of  this  unexpected  affliction,  and  goes  on 
to  say : 

This  must  be  a  melancholy  letter.  About  ten  days 
ago  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons  came  up  from  Cheltenham  to 
London  for  the  purpose  of  enduring  an  operation.1  She 
bore  it  most  serenely,  and  for  a  time  all  seemed  well.  But 
a  day  or  two  afterwards  there  was  an  unfavourable  turn, 
and  for  the  last  week  we  have  been  in  the  most  painful 
anxiety.  There  is  no  hope  of  ultimate  cure  or  return  to 
health.  At  the  moment  I  write  this  she  is  a  little  less 
souffrante ;  our  best  hope  is  existence  protracted,  without 
much  pain,  perhaps  for  a  few  weeks.  She  is  the  most 
gentle  of  human  beings,  one  of  the  best  and  purest  natures 
I  ever  met  with,  and  true  to  her  character  to  the  last. 
Lady  Byron  was  with  her  during  the  operation,  supported 
her  through  it,  and  has  ever  since  been  at  hand.  I  am  in 
a  manner  with  both,  for  Lady  Byron  requires  almost  as 
much  watching  as  her  friend  ;  and  what  will  be  the  issue 
of  so  much  emotion  and  fatigue,  and  the  horrible  London 
atmosphere,  I  dread  to  think. 

The  anxiety  felt  concerning  Mrs.  Henry  Sid- 
dons  terminated  in  her  death  about  a  week  later ; 
and  early  in  December  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  the 
same  correspondent  : 

1  For  dropsy. 


FRIENDS.  203 

The  date  of  your  last  letter  (Oct.  31),  dearest  Noel, 
was  the  day  on  which  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons  was  buried 
in  the  Grey  Friars  Church  at  Edinburgh.  She  died  in 
London  after  ten  days  of  suffering,  and  her  death  was  worthy 
of  her  life.  The  serenity,  the  tenderness,  the  unselfish 
sweetness  of  her  character,  the  same  to  the  last ;  resigned 
to  all,  thoughtful  of  others,  grateful  for  every  proof  of 
affection  ;  the  lofty  tone  of  her  mind  unimpaired  through 
the  long  days  of  pain  and  suspense — thus  she  died. 

Mrs.  Mair  (Lizzie)  and  her  good  husband  arrived  from 
Edinburgh  while  she  was  yet  sensible.  Lady  Byron  and 
myself  and  another  devoted  friend,  Emily  Taylor,  were 
near  her.  Though  my  intimacy  with  her  was  comparatively 
recent,  I  do  not  and  cannot  recover  from  the  impression 
left  by  her  last  moments.  I  had  strongly  attached  myself 
to  her,  and  felt  the  full  value  of  the  high  moral  tone,  the 
gentle  benignity,  the  poetical  refinement,  of  her  character. 

All  the  world  is  talking  of  Harriet  Martineau's  cure  by 
mesmerism.  I  say  nothing  because  everyone  is  saying  too 
much,  and  her  last  letter  in  the  '  Athenaeum  '  is  imperfect 
as  evidence.  I  hardly  know  what  to  say  at  all,  for  she  is 
my  friend,  and  a  wonderfully  gifted  woman. 

Of  this  'cure  by  mesmerism'  Miss  Martineau 
herself  wrote  a  succinct  history  in  a  letter  to  my 
aunt — a  letter  full  of  the  vigour  of  new  life, 
and  strangely  contrasting  with  letters  sent  a  few 
months  previously,  breathing  indeed  resignation, 
but  unillumined  by  one  ray  of  hope  for  the  future. 
I  may  quote  a  paragraph  or  two  from  one  of  these 
cheerful  but  entirely  invalid  letters,  as  contrasting 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


with  the  confidence  which  filled  her  mind  after  her 
cure  : 

How  delicious  (she  writes)  this  July  is  !  flowers  strewing 
my  rooms,  mowing  and  haymaking  going  on  on  the  downs, 
and  the  sea  all  diamond-glittering,  and  my  little  nephews 
shrimping,  promising  me  fifty-four  shrimps  for  tea,  as  we 
had  yesterday.  It  is  a  new  idea  to  me,  counting  shrimps, 
but  it  sounds  grander  than  '  a  gill.'  The  little  fellows 
have  grown  so  handsome  since  they  came  to  me,  as  brown 
as  gipsies.  And  our  talk  is  high  as  heaven,  by  moon- 
light when  their  day's  pranks  are  over. 

Speaking,  too,  of  the  thoughtful  kindness  of 
many  friends,  of  the  present  sent  her  by  one  among 
these  — 

Mrs.  Reid,  dear  soul  !  has  sent  me  the  best  present  any 
good  genius  could  devise  for  a  prisoner  —  a  fine  stand 
telescope.  I  range  many  miles  over  sea  and  land,  and  spy 
among  the  stars.  I  see  every  net  the  fishermen  draw,  and 
the  sailors  on  the  yards,  and  the  flags  of  all  nations,  and 
every  cove  and  cavern  along  the  shore,  and  the  reapers  in 
the  field,  the  lovers  on  the  rocks,  the  sportsmen  on  the 
heath,  the  cattle  in  the  farmyards,  for  miles  ;  and  the  town 
of  Shields  (whenever  I  chance  to  look  that  way)  ;  and, 
what  is  very  pretty,  ships  going  out  of  harbour  with  their 
cheering  crews,  and  their  sweethearts  on  the  wharves.  I 
see  the  daisies  and  dandelions  on  the  down,  and  the  pranks 
of  all  the  boys  and  goats  in  Tynemouth.  I  spend  hours 
at  that  telescope  ! 

With  all  the  consolations  and  pleasures  so  plea- 
santly described,  it  is  evident  that  the  writer  was 


FRIENDS.  205 


looking  forward  to  nothing  beyond  a.  continuation, 
for  the  remainder  of  her  existence,  of  the  *  life  in  a 
sick-room '  she  had  already  rendered  familiar  to 
her  readers. 

Miss  Martineau's  disapproval  of  the  publication 
of  letters  is  well  known ;  and  I  have  hesitated  as  to 
the  printing  even  of  the  following,  selected  from 
among  her  many  communications  to  my  aunt.  But 
perhaps,  as  the  letter  itself  is  evidently  written 
with  the  intention  of  being  handed  from  one  to 
another  of  a  band  of  friends,  and  as  in  her  recently 
published  biography  there  has  been  no  apparent 
restraint  in  the  production  of  letters,  it  seems  un- 
necessary to  act  rigidly  upon  a  wish  which  Miss 
Martineau's  representatives  have  not  themselves 
respected.  The  letter  is  specially  interesting  as 
showing  the  warm  bond  of  friendly  feeling  among 
the  different  members  of  this  literary  circle,  as  well 
as  for  its  account  of  the  much-discussed  '  cure.'  '  I 
am  more  and  more  bewildered  by  the  whole  sub- 
ject,' Miss  Barrett  had  written.  '  I  wish  I  could 
disbelieve  it  all,  except  that  Harriet  Martineau  is 
well/ 

Tynemouth. 

DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON,— On  Monday  I  charged  Mrs. 
Grote  with  my  whole  story  for  you.  I  had  been  quite 
uneasy  not  to  tell  you  and  Lady  Byron  ;  but  I  heard  you 
were  both  wandering,  and  Mrs.  Grote  promised  you  should 
hear  it  all.  (Ask  her  anything  you  like.)  Meantime,  as 


206  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  sent  it  to  Emily  Taylor  through  her  sister,  I  hoped  it 
would  reach  you. 

The  word  '  recovered '  is  much  too  strong  at  present. 
The  rest,  as  in  your  note,  is  true.  It  surprises  me  less 
than  you.  I  long  ago  knew  mesmerism  to  be  true.  But 
I  never  supposed  I  could  try  it  here.  My  good  doctor 
himself  brought  over  the  mesmerist  who  first  proved  me 
susceptible ;  and  I  hear  from  him  to-day  that  he  has  an- 
nounced to  his  colleagues  at  the  Newcastle  Infirmary  his 
intention  of  introducing  trials  of  mesmerism  there,  in  pre- 
paration for  operations  to  test  the  truth  ;  to  which  they  all 
assented.  So  now  something  more  will  be  proved. 

The  first  trial  was  on  the  22nd  June.  From  that  day 
I  have  been  regularly  mesmerised  twice  a  day  by  my 
maid  Margaret  till  three  weeks  since,  and  now  by  a  bene- 
volent lady  who  is  with  me  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  how 
far  the  experiment  can  be  carried.  (As  in  all  such  cases, 
without  fee  or  reward.)  I  first  recovered  appetite  and  lost 
the  sickness,  then  gained  sleep,  nerve,  and  spirits.  The 
total  cessation  of  local  and  marking  pains,  and  of  the  '  dis- 
tress,' some  three  weeks  after  I  had  left  off  all  medicines 
(except  the  rapidly  diminishing  opiates),  made  me  request 
my  doctor  to  examine  whether  some  change  had  not  taken 
place  in  the  disease  itself.  You  remember  the  main  mis- 
chief— that  which  confined  me  so  closely  and  caused  the 
chief  suffering — was  that  the  diseased  part  was  distorted 
and  displaced,  and  fastened  by  morbid  growths,  so  that  no 
force  could  move  it.  Well,  it  had  given  way,  was  move- 
able,  and  had  risen  two  or  three  inches.  This  was  really 
turning  the  corner.  It  continues  to  rise  very  gradually, 
and  my  mesmerist  and  I  are  quite  sure  it  is  much  diminished 
in  size.  My  waist  and  body  are  reduced,  while  I  have 
gained  flesh  elsewhere.  I  have  no  feeling  of  illness,  eat 
heartily,  sleep  all  night,  walk  three-quarters  of  a  mile  with- 


FRIENDS.  207 

out  fatigue,  and  am  free  from  nervous  excitement,  and  was 
so,  quite,  on  the  very  first  occasion  of  going  out  after  four 
and  a  half  years.     Everybody  who  comes  remarks  on  some 
decrease   of  my  deafness ;  but   of  this  I  am   not  aware. 
Take  to-day — I  rose  at  eight,  after  seven  hours'  sound  sleep, 
breakfasted  before  nine,  was  mesmerised  for  an  hour,  went 
out  alone  without  any  opiate,  walked   round  the  castle- 
yard,  and  down  to  the  .  .  .  :  and  up  again  ;  dressed  to 
receive  Lambtons  and  Greys ;  talked  with  them  for  two 
hours  ;  dined  well  ;  read  for  above  an  hour ;  am  now  writing 
to  you  ;  am  to  have  my  kind  mesmerist  to  tea  ;  shall  sit  up 
(which  I  am  practising)  for  two  hours  at  work,  dictating 
letters  ;  shall  have  an  hour's  mesmerising  ;  read  an  hour  ; 
to  bed,  and  asleep   before   my  head  reaches  the  pillow, 
— and  all  without  ache,  pain,  or  weakness,  only  infirmity. 
There  is   no  reaction  after  mesmerism.    All  is   calm  and 
refreshing  and  invigorating.     I  feel  it  a  sensible  feeding 
of  my  fife,   from   day  to   day,  and  the   principle  of  life 
thereby,  I  suppose,  becomes  victor  over  disease.     I  have 
never  had   one   moment's  doubt   or   misgiving   from  the 
first  trial,  the  visual  evidences  and  peculiar  sensations  having 
never  once  been  absent.     The  sleep  has  never  come,  but 
it  is  not  necessary,  though  it  quickens  the  process,  and  I 
fancy  it  will  come  when  the  opiate  effects  are  completely 
worn  out.     I  now  take  only  four  or  five  drops  of  laudanum 
per  day,    and  shall  soon  have   diluted  that   modicum  to 
nothing.     Lady  M.  Lambton,  who  knew  all,  and  had  high 
expectations,  was  surprised  at  my  looks  to-day.     To  the 
primrose  has  succeeded  a  salmon-colour — on  the  way  to 
carmine,  let  us  suppose  ! 

The  only  drawback  is  the  lapfuls  of  letters — I  mean 
the  inability  to  answer  them.  We  don't  know  what  to  do. 
Will  Lady  Byron,  and  also  Lady  Monson,  accept  this 
through  you,  as  to  themselves  ?  We  serve  the  sick  first, 


208  ANNA  JAMESON. 


but  a  mountain  of  correspondence  remains  untouched.  I 
kept  the  matter  pretty  close,  for  mesmerises  sake,  till  we 
had  proof  that  the  disease  was  really  reached,  and  that  the 
improvement  was  thorough. 

The  chief  pleasure  has  been,  and  continues  to  be, 
finding  sober  serious  belief  on  every  hand,  and,  where 
that  is  not  yet  attained,  a  grave  candour  which  I  never 
should  haye  dreamed  of  finding  so  extensive.  Of  my  own 
immediate  family  three  were  serious  believers  before,  and 
a  fourth  quite  open-minded,  leaving  only  one  to  be  con- 
vinced besides  my  mother.  The  immediate  evidences, 
every  day,  are  as  clear  to  me  as  stars  in  the  sky,  as  certain 
as  warmth  from  the  fire.  All  who  have  seen  me  will 
avouch  that  I  am  under  no  excitement  In  truth,  except 
for  the  vivid  pleasure  of  open-air  wandering  and  the  com- 
fort of  ease  at  home,  I  could  almost  forget  my  whole 
illness. 

My  mesmerist  friends  are  sanguine  about  cure.  To  me 
this  still  seems  a  vast  work  to  do.  Yet  it  would  not  be 
reasonable  to  deny  the  possibility.  My  expectation,  or 
rather  my  conjecture,  however,  is,  that  it  will  remain  a  case 
of  infirmity,  of  no  great  inconvenience,  and  always  limit- 
able  by  mesmerism. 

I  am  sure  I  need  not  tell  yon  how  very  serious,  how 
solemn,  the  subject  is  to  my  mind.  It  always  was.  I  see 
in  it,  as  I  did  a  year  ago,  an  agency  by  which  human 
transactions  will  be  as  extensively  modified  in  the  future  as 
outward  modes  of  living  will  be  by  such  discoveries  as 
Faraday's.  Of  course  we  keep  close  and  full  journals  of 
the  case  ;  and  anything  that  can  be  done  by  my  experience 
to  enlighten  men  shall  be  done  at  any  cost  to  my  own 
feelings. 

Lady  Mary  to-day  said  I  must  go  to  Lambton  some 
day.  Probably ;  but  my  mesmerist  and  I  are  like  Siamese 


FRIENDS.  209 


twins,  and  must  be  for  some  time.     This  place  is  all  I 
want,  but  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  at  Lambton  some  day. 
Good-bye  !    My  love  to  you  and  Gerard ine.     How  you 

will  like  this  note  ! 

Yours  affectionately, 

H.  M. 

To  these  brief  notices  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  many 
friendships  I  will  add  only  the  following  letter, 
which  describes  some  few  particulars  of  another  little 
expedition  to  the  North  during  the  summer  of  1845, 
written  in  July  from  Haling  : 

I  am  just  returned  from  Edinburgh,  where  I  have  been 
staying  with  Major  and  Mrs.  Mair.  I  came  back  by 
Ambleside,  where  I  saw  Harriet  Martineau  looking  won- 
derfully well,  alert,  full  of  life  and  spirits,  walking  seven 
or  eight  miles  a  day,  and  most  enthusiastic  about  mes- 
merism. I  saw  also  Wordsworth,  Mrs.  Arnold,  the  widow 
of  Dr.  Arnold,  and  her  family,  and  other  friends.  Then 
I  came  on  to  Leicestershire,  and  spent  three  short  happy 
days  with  Lady  Byron  at  Kirkby.  She  is  lodged  at  one 
end  of  a  farmhouse  opposite  to  C.  Noel.  She  has  fitted 
up  a  little  establishment  for  herself,  and  there  I  found  her 
busy  with  tenants'  schools,  game-laws,  and  manifold  pro- 
jects for  the  benefit  and  happiness  of  others.  You  can 
believe  I  was  not  there  without  thinking  much  of  you,  dear 
Noel.  I  liked  your  brother  and  his  gentle  wife ;  and, 
though  I  could  not  think  that  fat  flat  country  interesting, 
I  was  charmed  with  my  visit. 


2io  ANNA  JAMESON. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

LABORIOUS   YEARS. 

IN  the  month  of  August  1845,  Mrs.  Jameson  accom- 
plished her  long  desire,  and  went  abroad.  She 
stayed  some  six  weeks  in  Germany  on  her  way  to 
Italy,  Italy  being  ever  the  goal  of  her  desires. 
From  Rosawitz,  Mr.  Noel's  place  in  Bohemia,  she 
writes  home  on  August  17 — the  birthday  of  her 
mother  and  of  her  eldest  sister — a  letter  telling  her 
own  story  since  the  time  she  had  left  them : 

MY  DEAREST  MOTHER  AND  ELIZA, — I  cannot  see 
this  day  rise  without  beginning  it  with  a  letter  to  you,  to 
show  you  at  least  that  I  am  thinking  of  you.  God  bless 
you  both,  and  send  you  yet  many  happy  years  !  I  wish  I 
could  know  something  of  home,  but  it  will  be  at  least  a 
fortnight  more  before  I  can  have  a  letter,  and  in  the  mean- 
time I  try  to  profit  by  the  opportunity  of  learning  much 
in  a  thousand  ways,  and  so  strive  to  keep  anxiety  away 
from  my  mind.  Yesterday  I  dined  at  the  Castle  with  the 
Thun  family,  and  was  very  glad  to  renew  my  acquaintance 
with  them  all,  though  the  absence  of  Count  Franz  made  it 
less  agreeable  than  it  would  have  been  had  he  been  there. 
Ottilie  is  at  Weimar,  and  I  remain  here  for  some  days 
longer  before  we  proceed  to  the  south. 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  211 


The  country  here  is  wonderfully  beautiful.  You  will 
have  an  idea  of  it  if  you  look  in  my  sketch-book  for  the 
view  of  Tetschen.  There  are  reasons  which  make  me  wish 
inexpressibly  that  Gerardine  were  here,  under  the  sweet 
influence  of  Mrs.  Noel,  for  no  day  passes  in  which  she 
does  not  rise  in  my  estimation.  Such  a  guide,  such  a 
friend  for  my  child,  would  be  inestimable.  But  I  shall 
alter  no  arrangement,  for  change  can  only  do  mischief. 
Next  year  we  shall  see  what  may  be  done,  if  I  get  on  in 
the  world. 

Dresden,  August  27. — I  have  been  kept  in  a  good 
deal  of  suspense  by  delays  of  post  and  other  accidents.  I 
am  now  expecting  Mme.  de  Goethe,  her  mother,  and 
Ulrica,1  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  decided  that  we  go 
round  by  Vienna.  It  will  cause  me  some  loss  of  time 
and  some  expense,  but  there  is  no  avoiding  it.  I  have 
written  to  Munich  to  desire  that  all  letters  shall  be  for- 
warded to  Vienna  ;  but  God  knows  when  I  shall  get  them, 
if  ever,  and  my  mind  is  beginning  to  be  anxious. 

I  left  Rosawitz  with  great  regret.  It  is  really  a  most 
lovely  spot — a  place  to  attach  oneself  to.  Luckily  I  have 
many  things  to  do.  Since  I  came  here  I  have  been  very 
busy.  I  go  to  the  Gallery  every  morning,  to  the  library, 
to  the  royal  collection  of  prints,  and  am  picking  up  every- 
where and  making  notes.  I  have  been  introduced  to 
Countess  Hahn,  and  drank  tea  with  her  last  night,  and 
found  her  very  agreeable  and  ladylike. 

August  28. — I  shall  close  my  letter  to-day  and  post 
it.  Ottilie  arrived  last  night,  and  our  plans  are  at  last 
settled.  On  Sunday  we  leave  Dresden  for  Tetschen,  going 
up  the  Elbe  in  a  steamboat.  On  Monday  we  leave  Tet- 
schen and  proceed  to  Prague.  On  the  4th  we  shall  be  at 


1  Mme.  de  Goethe's  sister. 

p  2 


212  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Vienna,  and  on  the  8th  at  Venice.  You  must  direct 
Poste  Restante,  Venice,  vi&  France.  How  much  I  wish  to 
hear  of  you  all !  God  grant  I  have  good  tidings  of  you 
all  in  the  letters  I  hope  to  receive  at  Vienna !  And  so, 
my  dear  ones  all,  dear  Louisa  and  Camilla  and  Geddie 
included,  I  am  your  affectionate  ANNA. 

This  time  there  was  no  sudden  and  painful  recall 
home ;  Mrs.  Jameson  carried  out  her  plan  of  crossing 
the  Alps,  and  thus  broke  through  the  sort  of  spell 
that  had  previously  seemed  to  forbid  her  realising  her 
chief  desire.  She  made  but  a  short  visit,  however, 
to  her  dearly  loved  Italy,  and  on  her  way  back  wrote 
to  Mr.  Noel  from  Paris  : 

Now  as  to  my  own  biography.  I  can  only  give  you  a 
sketch.  After  leaving  Venice,  the  beautiful,  the  wonderful, 
with  a  regret  which  seems  quite  childish  when  I  look  back, 
I  made  a  rapid  flight  across  Italy  for  purposes  connected 
with  my  intended  book,  seeing  Padua,  Mantua,  Cremona, 
Pavia,  Milan,  Brescia,  Bergamo,  and  Verona.  At  Verona  I 
saw  a  balloon  ascend  from  the  interior  of  the  ancient  amphi- 
theatre, crowded  with  1 5,000  people — a  spectacle  which  I 
shall  always  remember  as  one  of  the  most  magnificent  I  ever 
beheld  in  itself,  and  from  the  inevitable  associations  con- 
nected with  it,  and  the  comparison  between  ancient  and 
modern  times.  For  example,  they  carried  on  the  chemical 
processes  for  preparing  the  gas  and  filling  the  balloon  in 
the  very  receptacle  from  which  the  wild  beasts  used  to 
spring  out  upon  their  victims.  Leaving  Verona,  I  crossed 
the  Brenner  and  came  by  Innspruck  to  Munich.  From 
the  time  I  had  left  Venice  I  had  not  exchanged  a  word 
with  any  human  being  except  innkeepers  and  officials,  and 


LABORIOUS  YEARS.  213 

had  been  absolutely  alone.  I  was  glad  to  find  myself 
again  among  friends.  Yet  Munich  made,  on  the  whole,  a 
very  disagreeable  impression,  and  the  sudden  change  of 
climate  made  me  almost  ill,  or  rather  quite  so.  Paris  has 
at  present  no  charms  for  me.  I  am  pursued  by  a  haunting 
gnawing  wish  to  return  home  and  be  at  rest. 

Among  the  earliest  letters  written  after  her  re- 
turn was  one  to  Catherine  Sedgwick,  giving  a  suc- 
cinct account  of  her  visit  to  the  Continent. 

.1  went  abroad,  somewhat  suddenly,  on  July  23.  My 
purpose  was  to  see,  and,  if  I  could,  to  comfort,  my  friend 
Mme.  de  Goethe.  She  lost  last  year  her  only  daughter, 
a  blooming  girl  of  seventeen,  of  typhus  fever,  and  the  blow 
fell  heavy  on  her.  I  went  by  Frankfort  to  Nuremberg, 
where  we  met  and  spent  about  ten  days  absolutely  tete-a- 
tete,  and  in  some  respects,  in  spite  of  sorrow,  happily.  We 
then  parted  for  some  days ;  she  went  to  Weimar  to  visit 
the  Grand-Duchess  and  settle  some  affairs  for  her  sons  ;  I 
went  to  Tetschen  to  see  my  friends  the  Noels  and  the 
Thun  family,  then  met  Ottilie  again  at  Dresden,  went  with 
her  to  Prague  and  Vienna,  thence  to  Trieste  and  across  the 
Adriatic  to  Venice.  Did  you  visit  Venice  ?  I  forget.  In 
the  world  there  is  nothing  like  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  we 
can  find  a  similitude  for  everything  else,  but  Venice  is  like 
nothing  else — Venice  the  beautiful,  the  wonderful !  I  had 
seen  it  before,  but  it  was  as  new  to  me  as  if  unbeheld  ; 
and  every  morning  when  I  rose  I  was  still  in  the  same 
state  of  wonder  and  enchantment.  But  then  came  pain 
and  sorrow.  Letters  came  to  Ottilie  that  her  son  Wolf 
was  ill  at  Naples,  and  she  went  off  at  once  to  him.  I 
could  not  go ;  I  had  duties  in  England  which  made  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  winter  in  Italy.  On  my  return  I  found 


2i4  ANNA  JAMESON. 

my  family  well,  the  cottage  home  flourishing,  but  my  dear 
friend  Lady  Byron  just  recovering — or,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
trying  to  recover — from  one  of  her  terrible  fits  of  illness, 
looking  more  white  and  tremulously  weak  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her.  I  was  shocked  and  more  apprehensive  than  I 
had  ever  felt  about  her.  She  has  since  been  slowly  gain- 
ing, at  least  not  losing,  ground,  but  how  I  dread  the  winter 
for  her !  Of  all  human  beings  she  is  the  one  most  neces- 
sary to  my  heart  and  to  my  mental  and  moral  well-being  ; 
the  only  one,  perhaps  I  might  say,  uniting  in  her  most 
extraordinary  character  and  peculiar  destiny  all  I  most 
love  with  all  I  most  reverence.  This  is  a  horridly  selfish 
way  of  putting  it  when  I  think  how  necessary,  how  beyond 
measure  valuable,  her  life  is  to  others — to  so  many — to 
her  daughter  and  grandchildren  especially.  My  mind  is  a 
little  unsettled,  and  I  am  not  feeling  well ;  but  I  am  going 
to  work  forthwith,  the  essays  on  '  Legendary  Art '  being 
in  progress.  Those  I  have  finished  are  the  essays  on  the 
Evangelists,  Apostles,  Fathers  of  the  Church,  and  the 
Magdalene ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  write  about  your 
sweet  patron-saint,  St.  Catherine.  Now  that  I  have  be- 
stowed on  you  all  this  superfluity  of  egotism,  let  me  turn 
again  to  your  dear  charming  letter  and  thank  you  for  it. 
How  interesting  is  every  word  of  it,  even  '  baby's  blot,'  to 
which  I  gave  a  kiss  for  the  love  of  Kate ;  shall  I  ever  see 
my  Gerardine's  baby  ?  I  have  not  met  with  Margaret 
Fuller's  book,  but  I  will  read  it  as  soon  as  I  can  get  it. 
The  cause  of  women  would  suffer  if  handled  coarsely  and 
in  bad  taste  by  one  of  their  own  sex  ;  so  much  depends, 
not  on  what  is  said,  but  how  it  is  said. 

Among  the  numerous  friends  of  the  late  Mrs. 
Harry  Siddons  there  was  an  earnest  wish  that  Mrs. 
Jameson  should  undertake  to  compile  a  memoir 


LABORIOUS  YEARS.  215 

worthy  of  its  subject;  and  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  had 
once  contemplated  writing  the  life  of  the  other  more 
renowned  Mrs.  Siddons,  accepted  the  grateful  office 
of  recording  the  honourable  existence  of  the  gentle 
sister-in-law,  who  had  borne  her  acquired  name  with 
such  true  dignity  and  worth.  However,  it  was  not 
to  be.  One  or  two  members  of  the  family  disap- 
proved of  the  plan.  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  on  De- 
cember i  : 

The  first  news  I  heard  on  my  return  was,  that  the 
family  of  Mrs.  Harry  Siddons  had  disagreed  concerning 
the  memoir ;  Major  and  Mrs.  Mair,  and  Mrs.  Grant,  and 
all  Mrs.  H.  Siddons'  most  intimate  friends,  being  of  one 
mind,  and  Henry  Siddons  and  Mr.  Grant  of  another.  So 
I  have  given  it  up  for  the  present,  for,  as  Mrs.  Grant  said, 
'  what  her  mother  would  most  have  abhorred  was  family 
disputes  ; '  and  certainly  I  wished  to  keep  clear  of  being  the 
cause  or  victim  of  such.  I  have  suffered  great  pain  in 
this  business,  but  it  is  passed  off,  and  I  am  turning  my 
mind  to  other  things. 

Alluding,  among  other  things,  to  the  politics,  the 
stirring  politics,  of  that  day,  to  the  Coercion  Bill  for 
Ireland,  &c.,  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  from  Ealing  on 
January  5,  1846  : 

I  have  put  some  English  newspapers  into  your  parcel, 
up  to  the  latest  date,  which  may  give  you  some  idea  of  the 
state  of  public  feeling,  for  I  do  not  trust  to  tJiat  finding  its 
way  into  your  German  newspapers.  '  The  religious  move- 
ment' and  Ronge  are  beginning  to  excite  attention. 
Lady  Byron,  after  reading  a  translation  of  Ronge's  mani- 


216  ANNA  JAMESON. 

festo,  seemed  disgusted  with  him  for  taking  up  the  old 
vulgar  ground — abuse  of  all  sects  but  his  own,  and  par- 
ticularly abuse  of  the  Roman  Catholics.  For  my  own 
part  I  see  it  all,  as  a  spectator  from  the  boxes  looks  on  a 
drama.  '  Play  out  the  play,'  and  from  disagreement  shall 
arise  agreement,  as  far  as  need  be  ;  but  why  human  beings 
should  not  disagree  about  religion,  as  well  as  other  things, 
I  do  not  know. 

And  in  March  she  writes  : 

These  are  stirring  times.  Sir  Robert  has  electrified 
us  all.  His  two  last  speeches — the  first  on  the  opening  of 
Parliament,  and  the  second  in  the  course  of  the  debate — 
have  astonished  by  their  elevated  tone  of  moral  feeling  as 
much  as  by  their  power  and  eloquence.  The  new  policy 
with  regard  to  Ireland  is  also  of  deepest  interest  to  me, 
an  Irishwoman,  though  I  abhor  this  proposed  Coercion  Bill 
of  Lord  St.  Germains,  and  pray  against  it  with  all  my 
heart. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  another  little  collec- 
tion of  my  aunt's  fugitive  papers  was  published  by 
Mr.  Bentley.  She  describes  it  in  a  letter  to  a  friend 
as  consisting  of  a  series  of  essays  :  i.  The  House 
of  Titian.  2.  The  Xanthian  Marbles.  3.  The 
Life  of  Washington  Allston.  4.  The  Lyrical 
Drama  in  England  ;  giving  an  account  of  Adelaide 
Kemble's  dramatic  career,  and  some  remarks  gene- 
rally on  the  position  of  female  artists.  5.  The 
Condition  of  the  Women  of  the  Working-Classes. 

6.  The  Means  afforded  for  the  Training  of  Women. 

7.  The   relative  Social    Position   of    Mothers    and 
Governesses. 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  217 

This  little  volume  was  rendered  yet  more 
interesting  by  the  friendly  aid  of  Miss  Barrett,  who 
contributed  to  the  paper  on  the  Xanthian  Marbles  a 
partial  translation  from  the  '  Odyssey '  of  the  verses 
alluding  to  the  fate  of  the  daughters  of  Pandarus, 
and  so  telling  the  story  illustrated  by  one  of  the 
'  Xanthian  marbles/  the  fragments  of  antique  art, 
which  had  been,  as  Mrs.  Jameson  writes,  brought 
hither  from  the  Syrian  coast  by  Sir  Charles  Fellows 
in  1842,  and  placed  in  the  British  Museum. 

The  suggestion  that  the  figures  on  the  so-called 
'  Harpy  Tomb  '  represent  a  form  of  the  old  Homeric 
legend  of  the  daughters  of  King  Pandarus,  made 
by  Mr.  Benjamin  Gibson,  the  brother  of  the  sculptor, 
'seems,'  Mrs.  Jameson  says,  'generally  admitted. 
Pandarus  of  Crete  steals  the  living  golden  dog, 
fabricated  by  Vulcan,  from  the  temple  of  Jupiter. 
The  father  of  the  gods  avenges  this  theft  by  the 
destruction  of  Pandarus,  whose  orphan  daughters 
are  brought  up  by  the  goddesses.  Venus  nourishes 
them  with  honey  and  wine  ;  Juno  endows  them 
with  beauty  and  intellect ;  Diana  gives  them  tall- 
ness  of  stature ;  Minerva  teaches  them  to  sew  and 
to  weave.  When  they  are  of  a  proper  age,  Venus 
is  about  to  bestow  husbands  on  them  ;  but  Jupiter, 
whose  vengeance  is  not  yet  satisfied,  sends  the 
Harpies,  by  whom  they  are  snatched  away  and 


2i8  ANNA  JAMESON. 

carried  into  Tartarus.     The  story  is  thus  related  by 
Penelope  in  the  2Oth  book  of  the  "  Odyssey."  ' 

Miss  Barrett  wrote  to  Mrs.  Jameson,  enclosing 
two  versions  from  the  Greek  and  saying — 

In  the  first  (written  first)  I  tried  to  represent — not 
perfectly,  but  imperfectly,  understand  — something  of  the 
Greek  cadence,  without  trenching  on  the  uncongenial 
English  hexameters.  This  version,  for  the  rest,  is  rendered 
line  for  line  with  the  original.  Yet  when  I  had  done  it, 
I  shrank  a  little  from  sending  it  to  you  without  an  alter- 
native in  the  common  measure. 


And  so  these  daughters  fair  of  Pandarus 

The  whirlwinds  took.     The  Gods  had  slain  their  kin  : 

They  were  left  orphans  in  their  father's  house. 

And  Aphrodite  came  to  comfort  them 

With  incense,  luscious  honey,  fragrant  wine  : 

And  Here  gave  them  beauty  of  face  and  soul 

Beyond  all  women.     Purest  Artemis 

Endowed  them  with  her  stature  and  white  grace, 

And  Pallas  taught  their  hands  to  flash  along 

Her  famous  looms.     Then,  bright  with  deity, 

Toward  far  Olympus  Aphrodite  went 

To  ask  of  Zeus  (who  has  his  thunder-joys 

And  his  full  knowledge  of  man's  mingled  fate) 

How  best  to  crown  those  other  gifts  with  love 

And  worthy  marriage  ! — but  what  time  she  went, 

The  ravishing  Harpies  snatched  the  maids  away, 

And  gave  them  up,  for  all  their  loving  eyes, 

To  serve  the  Furies,  who  hate  constantly  ! 

II. 

So  the  storms  bore  the  daughters  of  Pandarus  out  into  thrall ; 
The  Gods  slew  their  parents  :  the  orphans  were  left  in  the  hall. 
And  there  came,  to  feed  their  young  lives,  Aphrodite  divine, 
With  the  incense,  the  sweet-tasting-honey,  the  sweet-smelling  wine 
Here  brought  them  her  wit  above  woman's,  and  beauty  of  face  ; 


LABORIOUS   YEARS. 


And  pure  Artemis  gave  them  her  stature,  that  form  might  have  grace  ; 

And  Athen&  instructed  their  hands  in  her  works  of  renown  ; 

Then  afar  to  Olympus  divine  Aphrodite  moved  on  ; 

To  complete  other  gifts,  by  uniting  each  girl  to  a  mate, 

She  sought  Zeus,  who  has  joy  in  the  thunder,  and  knowledge  of  fate  — 

Whether  mortals  have  good  chance  or  ill  !  But  the  Harpies  alate 

In  the  storm  came,  and  swept  off  the  maidens,  and  gave  them  to  wait, 

With  that  love  in  their  eyes,  on  the  Furies,  who  constantly  hate  ! 

and  so,  and  so  ...  (for  my  explanation  grows  almost  as 
long  as  an  Odyssey).  I  send  besides  a  blank  verse  trans- 
lation, and  entreat  you  to  use  a  full  liberty  in  selecting 
either  version  or  rejecting  both  .  .  .  you,  who  know  the 
good  and  evil  of  everything  like  Zeus,  though  you  are  so 
much  too  kind  to  have  joy  in  your  thunderbolts. 

Mrs.  Jameson  published  both  the  exquisite  trans- 
lations, acknowledging  her  debt  of  gratitude  to  her 
friend  the  translator.  Miss  Barrett  saw  the  proofs 
of  this  book  in  course  of  progress  through  the  press, 
and  wrote  that  she  had  read  them  gladly  and  grate- 
fully, admiring  much  and  sympathising  everywhere. 
'  The  essays  were  full  of  suggestiveness,  and  the 
writing  vivid,  as  it  ought  to  be  where  the  thinking  is 
so  just  and  noble.'  Of  '  The  House  of  Titian' 
she  wrote  : 

Let  me  say  how  I  have  been  charmed  with  it.  It 
seems  to  me  in  your  best  manner.  I  am  at  Venice  with 
you  while  I  read,  and,  which  is  still  better,  at  one  with  you 
in  every  thought  nearly.  The  sympathy  is  so  alive  and 
close.  The  single  exception  is  in  the  observation  you 
make  about  art  —  about  art  not  being  the  medium  of  ex- 
pression for  the  present  age.  You  said  it  in  this  room,  I 
remember;  and  wherever  you  say  it,  I  feel  myself  set 
fixedly  against  you,  because  I  hold  that,  wherever  man 


220  ANNA  JAMESON. 

is  man,  '  to  unfold  the  human  into  beauty,'  which  is  art 
(and  you  have  adopted  that  truth  by  your  motto),1  is 
an  aim  natural  to  him.  If  I  could  believe  in  an  age 
without  souls,  i.e.  of  a  lopped,  straightened  humanity,  I 
might  believe  in  an  age  to  which  art  in  the  high  sense  is 
not  an  adapted  medium.  That  is  the  only  thought  in 
your  essay  which  I  fall  off  from.  All  the  rest  I  love  and 
live  by. 

I  may  be  permitted  to  extract  a  page  here  and 
there  from  these  '  Memoirs  and  Essays '  as  illustra- 
tive not  only  of  the  prevalent  tendencies  of  Mrs. 
Jameson's  mind,  but  also  as  strictly  autobiographical 
and  showing  how  her  visit  to  Venice,  more  briefly 
referred  to  in  her  letters,  had  been  filled  with  occu- 
pation. The  finding  of  the  '  House  of  Titian '  is 
told  with  all  her  wonted  eloquence,  when  once  on 
such  an  inspiring  subject. 

After  a  pilgrimage  through  the  churches  and  palaces 
of  Venice — after  looking  every  day  with  ever  new  delight 
on  the  '  Presentation  in  the  Temple,'  and  the  '  Assumption' 
in  the  Accademia,  we  had  resolved  to  close  our  sojourn  by 
a  visit  of  homage  to  the  house  in  which  the  great  old 
master  dwelt  for  fifty  years  (the  half  of  his  long  life),  and 
lived  and  loved,  and  laughed  and  quaffed  with  Aretino 
and  Sansovino  and  Bembo  and  Bernardo  Tasso  ;  and 
feasted  starry-eyed  Venetian  dames,  and  entertained 
princes,  and  made  beauty  immortal,  and  then  died — oh, 

1  The  motto  to  the  *  House  of  Titian,'  taken  from  Oelenschlager  : 

'  For  the  painter 

Is  not  the  painter  only,  but  the  man  ; 
And  to  unfold  the  human  into  beauty 
That  also  is  art.' 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  221 

such  a  death  !  a  death  which  should  seem  in  its  horror  and 
its  loathsomeness  to  have  summed  up  the  bitterness  of  a 
lifelong  sorrow  in  a  few  short  hours  ! 

It  was  not  in  the  Barbarigo  Palace  that  Titian  dwelt, 
nor  did  he,  as  has  been  supposed,  work  or  die  there.  His 
residence,  previous  to  his  first  famous  visit  to  Bologna,  was 
in  a  close  and  crowded  part  of  Venice,  in  the  Calle  Gal- 
lipoli,  near  San  Toma  ;  in  the  same  neighbourhood  Gior- 
gione  had  resided,  but  in  an  open  space  in  front  of  the 
church  of  San  Silvestro.  The  locality  pointed  out  as 
Titian's  residence  is  very  much  the  same  as  it  must  have 
been  in  the  sixteenth  century  ;  for  Venice  has  not  changed 
since  then  in  expansion,  though  it  has  seen  many  other 
changes,  has  increased  in  magnificence,  has  drooped  in 
decay.  In  this  alley,  for  such  it  was  and  is,  he  lived  for 
many  years  a  frugal  as  well  as  a  laborious  life ;  his  only 
certain  resource  being  his  pension  as  state  painter,  in 
which  office  he  succeeded  his  master,  Gian  Bellini.  When 
riches  flowed  in  with  royal  patronage,  he  removed  his 
atelier  to  a  more  spacious  residence  in  a  distant  beautiful 
quarter  of  the  city ;  and,  without  entering  into  any  ex- 
travagance, he  proved  that  he  knew  how  to  spend  money, 
as  well  as  how  to  earn  money,  to  his  own  honour  and  the 
delight  of  others. 

It  is  curious  that  a  house  so  rich  in  associations,  and,  as 
one  should  suppose,  so  dear  to  Venice,  should,  even  now, 
be  left  obscure,  half-ruined,  well  nigh  forgotten,  after  being 
for  two  centuries  unknown,  unthought  of.  It  was  with 
some  difficulty  we  found  it.  The  direction  given  to  us 
was,  '  Nella  contrada  di  San  Canciano,  in  hiogo  appcllato 
Biri-grandcy  net  Campo  Rotto,  sopra  lapallnde  o  canalc,  cK  £ 
in  faccia  air  isola  di  Murano,  ove  ora  stanno  inalzate  le 
Fondamenta  Nuovc' — minute  enough,  one  would  think; 
but  even  our  gondolier,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  of  his 


222  ANNA  JAMESON. 

class,  was  here  at  fault.  We  went  up  and  down  all  manner 
of  canals,  and  wandered  along  the  Fondamenta  Nttove,  a 
beautiful  quay  or  terrace,  built  of  solid  stone,  and  running 
along  the  northern  shore  of  this  part  of  the  city.  Here 
we  lingered  about  so  intoxicated  with  the  beauty  of  the 
scene  and  the  view  over  the  open  lagune,  specked  with 
gondolas  gliding  to  and  fro,  animated  by  the  evening  sun- 
shine, and  a  breeze  which  blew  the  spray  in  our  faces,  that 
every  now  and  then  we  forgot  our  purpose,  only,  however, 
to  resume  our  search  with  fresh  enthusiasm  ;  diving  into 
the  narrow  alleys,  which  intersect  like  an  intricate  network 
the  spaces  between  the  canals,  and  penetrating  into  strange 
nooks  and  labyrinths,  which  those  who  have  not  seen  do 
not  know  some  of  the  most  peculiar  and  picturesque  aspects 
of  Venice. 

We  were  now  in  San  Canciano,  near  the  church  of  the 
Gesuiti,  and  knew  we  must  be  close  upon  the  spot  in- 
dicated ;  but  still  it  seemed  to  elude  us.  At  length  a 
young  girl,  looking  out  of  a  dilapidated  unglazed  window, 
herself  like  a  Titian  portrait  set  in  an  old  frame — so  fresh, 
so  young,  so  mellow-cheeked,  with  the  redundant  tresses 
and  full  dark  eyes  alia  Veneziana — after  peeping  down 
archly  on  the  perplexed  strangers,  volunteered  a  direction  to 
the  Casa  di  Tiziano,  in  the  Campo  Rotto,  for  she  seemed 
to  guess,  or  had  overheard,  our  purpose.  We  hesitated, 
not  knowing  how  far  we  might  trust  this  extemporaneous 
benevolence.  The  neighbourhood  had  no  very  good  repu- 
tation in  Titian's  time,  and,  as  it  occurred  to  me,  had 
much  the  appearance  of  being  still  inhabited  by  persons 
delle  quali  £  bello  il  tacere.  But  one  of  my  companions 
gallantly  swearing  that  such  eyes  could  not  play  us  false, 
insisted  on  following  the  instructions  given  ;  and  he  was 
right.  After  threading  a  few  more  of  these  close  narrow 
passages,  we  came  upon  the  place  and  edifice  we  sought. 


LABORIOUS  YEARS.  223 

That  part  of  it  looking  into  the  Campo  Rotto  is  a  low 
wine-house,  dignified  by  the  title  of  the  Trattoria  di 
Tiziano,  and  under  its  vine-shadowed  porch  sat  several 
men  and  women  regaling.  The  other  side,  still  looking 
into  a  little  garden  (even  the  very  '  dilettevole  giardino  di 
Messer  Tiziano'),  is  portioned  out  to  various  inhabitants  : 
on  the  exterior  wall  some  indications  of  the  fresco  paint- 
ings which  once  adorned  it  are  still  visible.  A  laughing, 
ruffianly,  half-tipsy  gondolier,  with  his  black  cap  stuck 
roguishly  on  one  side,  and  a  countenance  which  spoke  him 
ready  for  any  mischief,  insisted  on  being  our  cicerone ;  and 
an  old  shoemaker  or  tailor,  I  forget  which,  did  the  honours 
with  sober  civility.  We  entered  by  a  little  gate  leading 
into  the  garden,  and  up  a  flight  of  stone  steps  to  an 
antique  porch  overshadowed  by  a  vine,  which  had  but 
lately  yielded  its  harvest  of  purple  grapes,  and  now  hung 
round  the  broken  pillars  and  balustrades  in  long,  wild, 
neglected  festoons.  From  this  entrance  another  flight  of 
stone  steps  led  up  to  the  principal  apartments,  dilapidated, 
dirty,  scantily  furnished.  The  room  which  had  once  been 
the  chief  saloon  and  Titian's  atelier  must  have  been 
spacious  and  magnificent,  capable  of  containing  very  large- 
sized  pictures — the  canvas,  for  instance,  of  the  Last  Supper, 
painted  for  Philip  II.  We  found  it  now  portioned  off  by 
wooden  partitions  into  various  small  tenements  ;  still  one 
portion  of  it  remained,  in  size  and  loftiness  oddly  con- 
trasting with  the  squalid  appearance  of  the  inmates.  About 
forty  years  ago  there  was  seen  on  a  compartment  of  the 
ceiling  a  beautiful  group  of  dancing  Cupids.  One  of  the 
lodgers,  a  certain  Messer  Francesco  Breve,  seized  with  a 
sudden  fit  of  cleanliness,  whitewashed  it  over  ;  but  being 
made  aware  of  his  mistake,  he  tore  it  down  and  attempted 
to  clean  off  the  chalk,  for  the  purpose  of  selling  it.  What 
became  of  the  maltreated  relic  is  not  known  ; — into  such 
hands  had  the  dwelling  of  Titian  descended. 


224  ANNA  JAMESON. 

The  little  neglected  garden,  which  once  sloped  down 
to  the  shore  and  commanded  a  view  over  the  lagune  to 
Murano,  was  now  shut  in  by  high  buildings,  intercepting 
all  prospect  but  of  the  sky,  and  looked  strangely  desolate. 
The  impression  left  by  the  whole  scene  was  most  melan- 
choly'; and  no  associations  with  the  past,  no  images  of 
beauty  and  of  glory,  came  between  us  and  the  intrusive 
vulgarity  of  the  present. 

The  political  essays  on  '  Woman's  Mission  and 
Woman's  Position,'  and  on  the  '  Relative  Position  of 
Mothers  and  Governesses,'  included  in  this  book, 
were  the  first  among  her  literary  contributions  to 
the  discussion  of  questions  of  social  science.  Of 
one  of  the  two  memoirs  ('  Adelaide  Kemble '  and 
'  Washington  Allston ')  Joanna  Baillie  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Jameson  : 

I  have  been  greatly  interested  with  the  dramatic  career 
of  Adelaide  Kemble,  which  is  exhibited  to  the  reader  with 
so  much  feeling  and  spirit,  and  with  justice,  too,  I  have  no 
doubt,  though  I  am  not  at  all  qualified  to  judge  of  a  most 
material  part  of  the  subject.  It  is  a  picture  of  her  (I 
should  say  a  series  of  pictures)  that  will  remain,  after  her 
natural  life  is  past,  in  the  imaginations  of  those  who  have 
seen  her  and  those  who  have  not.  I  was  not  quite  aware 
that  she  was  so  great  an  actress.  This  view  of  her  must 
be  very  gratifying  to  herself  and  family,  and  even  to  the 
family  she  is  married  into,  as  everything  regarding  the 
profession  is  touched  with  so  much  delicacy.  I  hope  to  be 
engaged  this  evening  with  the  '  House  of  Titian,'  and,  if  it 
way  be  so,  without  interruption. 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  225 

It  was  shortly  after  the  publication  of  this  little 
work  that  Miss  Martineau  wrote  to  enlist  Mrs. 
Jameson's  pen  in  behalf  of  the  Anti-slavery  Con- 
vention in  America,  begging  her — 

to  send  something,  any  sort  of  piece  (if  only  a  single 
sentence)  breathing  the  spirit  of  freedom  by  which  these 
noble  abolitionists  live,  and  you  may  do  more  for  the  cause 
than  you  will  easily  suppose  possible.  I  shall  send  some- 
thing, and  it  would  delight  me  to  have  the  honour  of 
sending  a  contribution  of  yours  with  my  own.  Any  pas- 
sage analogous  to  your  immortal  paragraph  about  the 
clause  in  the  New  Poor  Law  would  echo  through  the 
United  States,  and  reach  many  an  ear  deaf  to  what  a 
native  could  say. 

I  am  not  aware,  however,  that  Mrs.  Jameson  ever 
sent  any  contribution  to  the  '  Liberty  Bell,'  the 
American  periodical  to  which  Miss  Martineau 
refers. 

In  this  year  (1846)  the  Queen  and  the  Prince  Con- 
sort renewed,  indeed  I  believe  rebuilt,  a  certain  little 
summer-house  in  the  gardens  of  Buckingham  Palace. 
The  leading  artists  of  the  day  were  engaged  to 
paint  in  fresco  a  series  of  designs  illustrating  the 
classic  English  poets ;  and  the  royal  commission 
caused  at  the  time  considerable  sensation  and  in- 
terest in  the  artist  world.  The  whole  of  the  works 
executed  were  subsequently  engraved  by  Ludwig 
Griiner,  and  published  in  a  costly  folio  edition, 
coloured  after  the  originals.  For  this  Mrs.  Jameson 

Q 


226  ANNA  JAMESON. 

was  requested  to  write  an  introduction  and  descrip- 
tive text,  and  the  work  was  published  conjointly  by 
Messrs.  Murray,  Longman,  Colnaghi,  and  Moon. 

In  July  Mrs.  Jameson  sent  to  Mr.  Noel  the  fol- 
lowing little  note  upon  politics  in  which  her  previ- 
sions seemed  to  have  far  outleaped  time  and  the 
hour. 

You  will  have  heard  of  the  change  of  ministry ;  there 
are  some  doubts  whether  the  present  set  will  stand.  Never 
were  politics  so  dramatic,  so  interesting,  so  hopeful  as 
now.  Never  were  the  motives  of  action  so  high,  so  en- 
larged. You  see  Lord  John  Russell's  programme,  and 
how  much  the  education  and  the  health  of  the  people  enter 
into  it.  Then,  if  Lord  Grey  have  any  weight,  that  pest, 
the  Irish  Church,  will  be  done  away  with — in  short,  in  spite 
of  our  Puseyism,  &c.,  I  begin  to  have  hope  for  freedom  of 
mind  and  common  sense. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  negotiations  com- 
menced between  Mrs.  Jameson  and  the  firm  of 
Messrs.  Longman  for  the  publication  of  what  my 
aunt  always  looked  upon  as  the  work  of  her  life,  the 
one  by  which  she  chiefly  desired  to  be  remembered, 
and  which  has  already  been  frequently  referred  to. 
The  correspondence  between  Mrs.  Jameson  and  the 
head  of  this  firm  soon  resulted  in  a  kindly  inter- 
course that  time  ripened  into  a  sincere  and  enduring 
friendship.  In  her  first  note  on  the  subject,  written 
with  all  due  formality — , 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  227 

Mrs.  Jameson  presents  her  compliments  to  Messrs. 
Longman,  and  begs  to  know  whether  they  would  consider 
it  expedient  to  undertake  the  publication  of  her  work, 
entitled  '  Legendary  and  Sacred  Art,'  containing  an  ac- 
count of  the  lives,  legends,  habits,  and  attributes  of  the 
sacred  personages  whose  stories  have  been  illustrated  in 
the  pictures  and  sculptures  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
work  is  in  two  volumes,  of  which  one  and  a  half  are  finished 
and  the  rest  in  progress.  Mrs.  Jameson  thinks  it  right  to 
add  that  Mr.  Murray  had  undertaken  the  work,  but,  for 
reasons  which  shall  be  explained  if  necessary,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son withdrew  the  book  from  his  hands. 

It  may  be  mentioned  here,  en  passant,  that,  to 
test  the  interest  of  the  general  public  in  the  sub- 
jects Mrs.  Jameson  proposed  illustrating,  a  series 
of  papers  had  been  selected  by  her  from  her  work, 
and  published  in  the  columns  of  the  '  Athenaeum,' 
beginning  in  the  month  of  January  1845  with  ner 
'  Introduction,'  and  terminating  February  i,  1846, 
with  the  story  of  St.  Florian.  The  novelty  of  the 
treatment  and  the  charm  of  her  writing,  the  com- 
bination of  careful  research  with  a  perfect  appre- 
ciation of  all  she  had  found,  the  fascination  of  her 
eloquent  rendering  of  the  legends,  and  knowledge 
of  the  art  that  illustrated  them,  insured  her  success. 
The  negotiations  with  Messrs.  Longman  soon  came 
to  a  satisfactory  arrangement ;  the  one  drawback  in 
Mrs.  Jameson's  mind  being  that  she  had  bound  her- 
self to  finish  her  second  volume  and  have  all  ready 


228  ANNA  JAMESON. 

for  the  press  within  a  given   date,   I  believe   two 
years. 

Now,  although  the  literary  portion  of  the  work 
was  nearly  complete,  the  illustrations  and  the  notes 
were  a  formidable  task  yet  to  be  commenced.  Not- 
withstanding the  accumulation  of  prints  and  tracings 
that  had  been  progressing  for  years,  there  was  yet 
much  left  to  be  sought  and  achieved.  In  the  first 
place,  Italy  must  be  revisited,  and  Mrs.  Jameson  had 
resolved  not  to  leave  England  again  without  taking 
with  her  the  child  already  mentioned  more  than  once, 
in  whom  from  her  birth  she  had  taken  a  tender  and 
special  interest.  She  wished  to  spend  some  years 
abroad  with  her,  and  to  do  this,  and  at  the  same 
time  fulfil  the  duties  assumed  towards  the  other 
members  of  her  family,  was  attended  with  difficulties. 
The  start,  however,  was  made  at  last,  and  we  set 
out  in  the  autumn  of  this  year.  She  writes  in  Sep- 
tember from  Paris : 

I  am  sold  into  a  double  captivity ;  for,  to  enable  me  to 
do  this,  I  have  done  what  I  most  hate — contracted  to 
finish  a  book  in  a  certain  time.  My  plans  are  not  quite 
decided.  I  dislike  Paris ;  it  is  a  place  which  does  not 
harmonise  with  my  nature ;  and  I  shall  probably  go  to 
Pisa  or  to  Florence  by  the  Rhine  and  Marseilles.  So  much 
for  my  own  biography. 

I  have  also  here  a  poet  and  a  poetess — two  celebrities 
who  have  run  away  and  married  under  circumstances  pecu- 
liarly interesting,  and  such  as  render  imprudence  the  height 


LABORIOUS  YEARS.  229 

of  prudence.  Both  excellent ;  but  God  help  them !  for  I 
know  not  how  the  two  poet  heads  and  poet  hearts  will  get 
on  through  this  prosaic  world.  I  think  it  possible  I  may 
go  on  to  Italy  with  them. 

This  last  reference  was  to  a  most  interesting 
event  which  had  taken  her  and  all  the  world  by 
surprise.  During  the  last  few  years  my  aunt's 
friendship  with  Miss  Barrett  had  been  gradually 
ripening.  So  strong  had  the  feeling  of  interest  and 
affection  grown  in  Mrs.  Jameson's  mind,  that  when, 
during  the  course  of  her  preparation  for  leaving 
home,  she  heard  that  it  was  very  essential  for  Miss 
Barrett's  health  to  spend  the  winter  abroad,  though 
there  were  reasons  which  made  it  impossible  she 
should  do  so,  she  had  made  an  appeal  to  the  invalid's 
family  to  be  allowed  to  take  charge  of  her  and  take 
her  to  Italy.  For  this  kind  offer,  though  it  was 
not  accepted,  she  had  been  heartily  thanked  by 
the  sufferer  herself.  '  Not  only  am  I  grateful  to 
you,  but  happy  to  be  grateful  to  you,'  says  the  pretty 
and  tender  letter  of  thanks.  '  First  I  was  drawn  to 
you,  then  I  was,  and  am,  bound  to  you.'  When  the 
moment  of  departure  came,  another  little  note  of 
farewell  arrived,  deploring  the  writer's  inability  to 
come  in  person  and  bid  her  friend  good-bye,  as  she 
was  '  forced  to  be  satisfied  with  the  sofa  and  silence.' 

And  you  really  go  on  Monday  (she  adds),  and  not 
ever  to  come  back  ?  But  you  did  not  say  that.  Miss 


23o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Mitford  was  with  me  yesterday  all  day,  and  desired  that  I 
should  name  her  to  you.  And  may  I  send  my  love  to  the 
little  visitor  you  brought  me  the  day  before  ? 

Remaining  your  affectionate 

E.  B.  B. 

With  these  communications  so  fresh  in  her  mind, 
having  newly  parted  indeed  from  this  invalid  '  satis- 
fied with  the  sofa  and  silence/  it  may  be  supposed 
what  was  Mrs.  Jameson's  astonishment  when,  shortly 
after  we  reached  Paris,  she  received  another  little 
letter,  telling  her  that  Robert  Browning  had  just 
arrived  from  London,  en  route  for  Italy  with  his 
wife — the  same  E.  B.  B.  who  had  so  recently  taken 
farewell  of  her.  My  aunt's  surprise  was  something 
almost  comical,  so  startling  and  entirely  unexpected 
was  the  news.  But  it  was  as  delightful  as  unex- 
pected, and  gave  an  excitement  the  more  to  our 
journey,  which,  to  one  of  us  at  least,  was  already 
like  a  journey  into  the  old  world  of  enchantment — a 
revival  of  fairyland. 

Mrs.  Jameson  lost  no  time  in  going  to  the  hotel 
where  her  friends  were  staying,  and  induced  them 
to  come  at  once  to  the  quiet  pension  in  the  Rue 
Ville  1'Eveque,  where  she  herself  was  living.  The 
result  of  all  which  was  that,  after  about  a  fort- 
night spent  together  in  Paris,  the  whole  party  tra- 
velled leisurely  south  to  the  Brownings'  destination, 
Pisa. 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  231 

In  the  letters  lately  published  by  Mr.  Home,  Mrs. 
Browning  mentions  this  meeting  in  Paris  with  Mrs. 
Jameson,  and  the  fact  of  '  their  plans  having  been 
made  up  at  the  last  in  the  utmost  haste  and  agita- 
tion— precipitated  beyond  all  intention/  Miss  M it- 
ford,  in  her  '  Reminiscences,'  has  entered  somewhat 
into  the  causes  for  this  precipitation ;  but  such  details 
of  other  lives  would  be  out  of  place  here. 

Nevertheless  the  temptation  is  great  to  linger 
upon  the  memories  of  a  journey  so  enchanting,  made 
in  the  fairest  days  of  youth,  and  with  such  com- 
panionship. The  loves  of  the  poets  could  not  have 
been  put  into  more  delightful  reality  before  the  eyes 
of  the  dazzled  and  enthusiastic  beholder  ;  but  the 
recollections  have  been  rendered  sacred  by  death  as 
well  as  by  love. 

I  may,  however,  permit  myself  to  recall  one 
scene  among  many  of  this  wonderful  journey.  We 
rested  for  a  couple  of  days  at  Avignon,  the  route  to 
Italy  being  then  much  less  direct  and  expeditious, 
though  I  think  much  more  delightful,  than  now  ;  and 
while  there  we  made  a  little  expedition,  a  poetical 
pilgrimage,  to  Vaucluse.  There,  at  the  very  source 
of  the  '  chiare,  fresche  e  dolci  acque,'  Mr.  Browning 
took  his  wife  up  in  his  arms,  and,  carrying  her  across 
through  the  shallow  curling  waters,  seated  her  on 
a  rock  that  rose  throne-like  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  Thus  love  and  poetry  took  a  new  pos- 


232  ANNA  JAMESON. 


session    of  the    spot    immortalised    by    Petrarch's 
loving  fancy. 

Among  the  letters  in  Mr.  Home's  book  already 
referred  to  is  one  written  from  Pisa  after  some 
weeks'  residence  there,  telling  him  of  the  success  of 
the  journey  to  Italy,  so  far  as  Mrs.  Browning's  health 
was  concerned  : 

I  have  been  gaining  strength  every  week  since  we  left 
England  (she  writes),  and  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  met  us  in 
Paris,  and  travelled  with  us,  called  me  at  the  end  of  six 
weeks,  notwithstanding  all  the  emotion  and  fatigue,  rather 
transformed  than  improved.  She  has  now  gone  to  Flo- 
rence. 

Three  out  of  those  six  weeks  were  spent  by  the 
travelling  companions  together  in  Pisa — a  period  to 
which  both  of  the  survivors  must  look  back  with  a 
tender  reverent  memory,  with  associations  of  the 
past  hardly  to  be  breathed  aloud,  but  remembered 
within  one's  very  soul  as  a  golden  oasis  in  exis- 
tence. 

This  was  my  first  introduction  to  Italy,  and  I 
cannot  look  back  upon  it  without  something  of  the 
sense  of  bewildered  happiness  with  which  so  many 
wonders,  all  rushing  at  the  same  moment  upon  an 
inexperienced  creature  scarcely  sixteen,  so  much 
novelty,  so  much  beauty,  and  such  companionship, 
filled  my  mind  and  whole  being.  Even  the  incidents 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  233 

of  the  time  are  confused  in  the  golden  haze  of  youth- 
ful delight  that  envelopes  them.  I  had  the  happy 
sense  of  feeling  that  I  was  my  aunt's  assistant  in 
her  important  work,  and  was  at  her  side  constantly 
to  trace,  to  draw,  to  note,  as  occasion  might  require. 
In  the  solemn  enclosure  of  the  Campo  Santo,  in  the 
stillness  of  the  Cathedral,  and  through  all  the  other 
reliquaries  of  art  in  Pisa,  she  pursued  her  study 
with  the  minutest  care,  continually  pausing  to  point 
out  what  was  most  admirable,  to  explain  the  sequence 
of  art,  and  to  show  how  one  period  fitted  into  another, 
and  how  the  inspiration  of  a  great  master  was  re- 
peated, sometimes  in  broken  lights,  through  his 
whole  school.  The  work  progressed  bravely  during 
these  weeks  in  the  sleepy  tranquillity  of  the  old 
town.  We  went  out  in  the  brilliant  autumn  morn- 
ings— so  much  brighter  and  warmer  than  autumn  is 
anywhere  else — to  the  work,  which  was  one  long 
succession  of  pleasures,  and  often  spent  our  evenings 
in  the  same  continuous  occupation  ;  she  working  out 
the  result  of  her  studies,  arranging  and  classifying 
the  additions  to  her  stores,  pleased  to  have  the  little 
companion  by  her  to  do  whatever  might  be  most 
wanted,  from  the  details  of  a  drawing  to  the  making 
of  that  cup  of  tea  which  is  always  an  English- 
woman's consolation.  The  poet-pair,  who  were  our 
closest  associates,  added  all  that  was  wanted  to  the 
laborious  happiness  of  this  time.  Mrs.  Browning 


*34  ANNA  JAMESON. 

could  take  no  active  part  in  her  friend's  pursuits, 
but  who  shall  say  of  what  value  was  her  earnest  and 
unfailing  sympathy  ? 

Mrs.  Jameson  remained  at  Pisa  about  three 
weeks,  and  from  thence  went  on  to  Florence,  from 
which  place  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Noel  on  November  10  : 

My  first  thought  and  care  must  be  my  child  for  the 
next  year,  or  perhaps  two  years  ;  and  the  means  of  instruc- 
tion and  improvement  for  her  are  what  I  seek  first  every- 
where. Of  Lady  Byron  I  can  only  tell  you  that  she  seems 
to  have  set  up  a  foundling  hospital.  She  has  her  grand- 
children and  little  Montgomery  all  on  her  hands  ;  but  her 
last  letter  to  me  was  cheerful,  and  without  complaint  of  her 
health.  Now  of  myself,  I  have  to  tell  you  that  our  journey 
through  France  was  in  some  respects  a  happy  one,  in 
others  most  anxious  and  tedious.  My  poor  invalid  friend 
suffered  much  from  fatigue  ;  and,  considering  that  she  had 
passed  seven  years  without  ever  leaving  her  room,  you  can 
imagine  what  it  was  to  convey  her  from  Paris  to  Pisa. 
Luckily  our  journey  was  nearly  over  before  the  heavy  rains 
commenced.  We  remained  in  beautiful  Pisa  three  weeks, 
and  then  came  on  to  Florence,  where  we  arrived  on  the 
/th  of  this  month. 

Here  we  have  taken  a  lodging  in  the  Piazza  Santa 
Croce,  which  costs  fifteen  piastres  a  month — an  ante-room, 
sitting-room,  and  two  bed-rooms,  all  large  handsome  rooms  ! 
— and  this  sum  includes  linen,  plate,  and  service.  Our  ex- 
penses of  living  and  fire  I  calculate  at  thirty-five  piastres — 
about  I2/.  English  money  per  month  altogether.  Lom- 
bardy  is  cheaper,  for  the  crowds  of  English  here  at  this 
time  make  everything  dear. 

We  have  found  several  of  our  friends  here,  who  are 


LABORIOUS   YEARS.  235 

most  ready  to  be  attentive ;  but  the  weather  is  bitterly 
cold,  and  the  change  of  climate,  after  the  soft  air  of  Pisa, 
is  very  uncomfortable.  Florence  is,  however,  most  beau- 
tiful and  full  of  interest  to  me  ;  the  masters  are  good,  and  I 
hope  we  shall  spend  a  month  or  two  here  very  pleasantly 
and  profitably. 

Among  the  pleasant  houses  of  friends  old  and 
new  that  made  Mrs.  Jameson  and  '  her  child '  wel- 
come in  Florence,  was  that  of  some  very  old  friends 
indeed — Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Herbert  Lady  Her- 
bert had  been  an  early  and  intimate  friend  of  the 
mother  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  and  Sir  Charles,  until  he 
left  England  for  Italy  some  ten  years  previously, 
had  been  the  family  friend  and  physician.  None  of 
the  elder  generation  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  residents 
in  Florence  can  fail  to  remember  the  hospitable 
dwelling  of  the  Herberts  in  the  Palazzo  facing  the 
Ponte  alia  Carraja.  Then  there  was  Mrs.  Trollope, 
at  whose  weekly  reunions  appeared  everyone  of  any 
note,  and  many  of  no  note  at  all,  all  alike  kindly 
received  by  the  well-known  writer.  I  remember 
her  disappointment,  herself  a  devoted  whist-player, 
on  rinding  that  Mrs.  Jameson  did  not  profess  to 
know  one  card  from  another  !  The  Garrow  family 
with  their  all-accomplished  daughter,  Mme.  Saba- 
tier,  known  in  the  musical  world  as  Caroline  Ungher ; 
Mme.  Catalani — both  renowned  singers  in  their 
day  ;  the  sculptor  Power,  and  so  many  more  whose 


236  ANNA  JAMESON. 

names  now  belong  to  the  past,  then  belonged  to  the 
artist  society  of  Florence. 

We  were  over  two  months  in  Florence — two 
happy  months — work  and  amusement  treading  closely 
on  each  other's  heels.  Mrs.  Jameson  always  per- 
mitted '  her  child,'  notwithstanding  masters  and  les- 
sons, to  assist  as  far  as  she  could  in  the  work  she 
had  in  hand.  Outlines  were  drawn,  tracings  made, 
careful  drawings  put  on  the  wood  and  sent  home  to 
be  engraved  for  the  illustrations.  Every  day  had 
some  new  delight  in  the  way  of  exploring  old 
churches,  or  visiting  art  collections  or  modern 
studios.  For  a  time,  too,  Mrs.  Jameson  went  into 
society  in  Florence,  submitting  meekly  to  be  lionised 
(which  from  her  very  heart  she  hated),  and  ac- 
cepting kindness  for  herself  and  niece  ;  until  one  day 
there  came  a  letter  from  Rome  from  Mme.  de  Goethe, 
announcing  her  arrival  in  the  Eternal  City  from 
Meran,  where  she  had  been  staying  for  the  benefit 
of  her  son  Wolfs  health.  Then  Mrs.  Jameson  at 
once  made  up  her  mind  to  break  away  from  Florence 
and  join  her  friend  Ottilie  in  Rome. 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  237 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TRAVELS     AND     STUDIES. 

IT  was  late  in  the  month  of  January  1847  when 
Mrs.  Jameson  visited  Rome  for  the  second  time. 
Yet  after  a  lapse  of  some  three-and-twenty  years 
her  recollections  of  it  were  so  vivid,  and  so  little 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  interim,  within  the 
city  or  without,  that  she  felt  herself  no  stranger. 

Changes  there  were,  however,  that  were  soon  to 
lead  to  greater.  It  was  the  first  year  of  the  reign 
of  a  new  pope,  and  Pius  I X.,  some  six  months  occu- 
pant of  the  pontifical  chair,  was  already  astonish- 
ing Europe  in  general  and  his  subjects  in  particular 
by  a  line  of  political  conduct  altogether  opposed 
to  the  old  papal  rdgime  of  centuries.  A  pope 
who  commenced  his  rule  by  the  grant  of  a  general 
amnesty  to  all  his  political  adversaries,  accorded 
permission  for  railroads  and  gas,  interested  himself 
personally  about  the  night-schools  for  artisans,  and 
went  abroad  daily  on  foot  among  the  people,  visiting 
his  poorer  subjects  in  their  homes  of  an  evening, 
accompanied  generally  by  a  single  priest,  with  no 


238  ANNA  JAMESON. 

sort  of  guard  for  protection,  a  sort  of  Christian 
Haroun  el  Raschid  of  the  nineteenth  century,  was 
a  change  indeed  in  itself  sufficient  to  make  the 
period  of  this  visit  a  memorable  one. 

The  '  season '  that  year  was  what  the  Romans 
were  then  wont  to  distinguish  as  buonissima,  for 
Rome  was  crowded  with  foreign  visitors  of  all 
classes,  many  among  them  greatly  distinguished  by 
name  or  fortune.  '  Father  Prout/  in  his  letters  to 
the  '  Daily  News,'  of  which  paper  he  was  at  the 
time  correspondent,  enumerated  for  the  benefit  of 
his  readers  the  number  of  distinguished  strangers 
sojourning  in  Rome,  winding  up  the  list  with  an 
announcement  of  '  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  who, 
with  Lady  Charlotte  Bury  and  Mrs.  Butler,  adds  to 
our  collection  this  year  of  female  literary  celebrities/ 
Moreover,  either  the  '  Daily  News '  or  some  other 
newspaper  busied  itself  with  Mrs.  Jameson's  pro- 
ceedings, and  in  a  letter  to  her  sister,  dated  Rome, 
March  1 847,  she  alludes  to  this  : 

You  amuse  me  with  the  newspaper  accounts  of  my 
doings.  I  have  very  pleasant  soirees  on  Sunday  evenings, 
which  are  liked  ;  but  my  room  is  so  small  that  I  cannot 
have  above  twenty  people,  and  I  give  them  only  tea,  at 
the  dispensing  of  which  Gerardine  officiates  very  prettily. 
I  never  go  out,  because  if  I  went  to  one  place  I  must 
go  to  another.  I  let  Gerardine  go  out  occasionally  with 
dear  Mrs.  Reid,  but  seldom,  for  the  little  head  cannot 
stand  it.  I  was  frightened  by  the  publication  of  Lord 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  239 

Lindsay's  book,1  but  I  have  seen  a  copy,  and  now  I  do  not 
mind  him  ;  he  takes  a  different  ground  from  mine.  Mme. 
de  Goethe  is  occupied  with  her  sick  son ;  she  has  given 
Gerardine  a  beautiful  scarf.  My  most  useful  friend  is 
Miss  Montgomery.  Lady  Byron  is,  as  usual,  the  best  of 
correspondents,  though  overwhelmed  with  cares. 

Those  Sunday  evening  parties,  simple  as  was 
the  entertainment,  were  of  the  kind  that  lends  most 
zest  and  pleasure  to  society.  Mrs.  Jameson's  visi- 
tors were  of  kindred  tastes  to  her  own — artists, 
people  of  letters,  and  travellers  whose  distinction 
was  not  that  of  rank  only.  John  Gibson,  the  sculp- 
tor, modest  and  quaint  and  homely,  not  yet  quite  so 
great  a  man  as  he  afterwards  became ;  Francis 
Sylvester  O'Mahoney  (Father  Prout),  wearing  an 
ineradicable  air  of  the  priest  and  seminarist  in 
strange  combination  with  his  frank  Bohemianism  ; 
Charles  Hemans,  gentle,  correct,  and  bland,  at  the 
very  opposite  height  of  scrupulous  respectability, 
and  beginning  even  then  to  be  looked  on  by  us  all 
as  an  invaluable  companion  among  the  '  chief  relics 
of  almighty  Rome  ; '  Richard  Wyatt,  Penry  Wil- 
liams, Minardi  and  Cornelius ;  Overbeck,  with  his 
severe  and  saintly  aspect  ;  old  Kestner  (the  son  of 
Goethe's  Lotte),  who  looked  as  though  he  never 
could  have  been  young,  but  was  the  kindest,  most 
courtly  of  envoys ;  Dr.  Braun,  the  archaeologist ; 
and  many  another,  whose  names  have  not  remained 

1  Sketches  of  the  History  of  Christian  Art. 


240  ANNA  JAMESON. 

in  my  memory,  were  constant  visitors.  Mme.  de 
Goethe  came,  surrounded  by  her  own  little  train  of 
enthusiast  friends  from  Germany,  filling  the  little 
Roman  salon  with  a  perfume  of  court  atmosphere, 
true  grande  dame  jusqu'au  bout  des  ongles  that  she 
was.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cobden — English  of  the  Eng- 
lish, in  strongest  contrast  to  the  brilliant  and  senti- 
mental Germans — were  very  constant  during  their 
stay  in  Rome  ;  and  we  had  occasionally  Lord  Comp- 
ton  and  Lord  Walpole,  then  leading  artist  lives 
amid  the  artist  studios  in  Via  Margutta,  sometimes 
Lord  Beverley  with  his  pleasant  courtesy,  and  always 
the  little  fringe  of  faithful  English  friends — Miss 
Montgomery,  who  at  that  time  shared  with  my 
aunt  the  most  intimate  circle  of  Lady  Byron's  friend- 
ship, and  Mrs.  Reid,  Miss  Martineau's  and  many 
others'  '  dear  Mrs.  Reid,'  whose  kind  care  of  her 
niece  Mrs.  Jameson  has  above  recorded,  a  kindness 
never  to  be  forgotten.  To  the  little  personage  at 
the  tea-table  everything  was  new,  strange,  and  de- 
lightful, the  very  names  intoxicating,  the  talk  like 
that  of  the  gods.  And  when  all  had  left,  the  half- 
hour  spent  in  discussing  the  talk  and  the  talkers, 
with  entire  possession  of  the  dearest  and  to  her  the 
most  eloquent  of  all,  giving  explanation,  comment, 
and  suggestion !  What  half-hours  ever  passed  so 
quickly  as  these  ? 

One  Sunday   evening,    I  remember,    all    other 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES,  241 

guests  having  taken  their  departure,  Mr.  Gibson 
remaining  gave  us  the  complete  story  of  his  own 
career.  Mrs.  Jameson  took  it  down  from  his  own 
lips,  as  it  were,  that  night,  and  later  published  it  in 
the  '  Art  Journal.' l  Mr.  Gibson  was  wont  to  say 
— and  that  he  was  not  one  to  utter  a  careless  com- 
plimentary phrase,  let  those  who  knew  him  testify — 
that  he  owed  his  start  in  life  more  to  the  praises 
bestowed  on  his  work  by  Mrs.  Jameson  in  the  pages 
of  her  '  Diary  of  an  Ennuyee '  (the  Psyche  borne 
aloft  by  the  Zephyrs)  than  to  the  fact  of  this  group 
having  been  purchased  by  a  noble  patron. 

It  is  interesting  to  remember,  in  connection  with 
the  sincere  friendship  that  existed  between  the 
sculptor  and  Mrs.  Jameson,  that  the  commemora- 
tive bust  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Kensington 
Museum  was  executed  by  Gibson  as  a  last  tribute 
to  her  memory,  although  as  a  likeness,  and  even  as  a 
work  of  art,  it  is  in  itself  scarcely  worthy  of  his 
hand. 

Our  lodging  was  in  the  Piazza,  di  Spagna,  No.  53. 
One  of  the  jokes  of  our  little  circle — gentle  jokes, 
making  much  laughter  at  a  cost  of  little  wit,  as  in 
the  Vicarage  of  Wakefield — was  the  name  given  to 
Mrs.  Jameson  by  Miss  Montgomery's  coachman — 
1  la  signora  di  cinquante-tre,'  which  she  would  say 
was  unkind,  as  reminding  her  perpetually  of  her 

1  See  Appendix, 
k 


242  ANNA  JAMESON. 

age  (she  was  then  in  her  fifty-third  year).  Our 
rooms  were  over  Spi'thover's  shop,  with  little  bal- 
conied windows  looking  out  over  all  the  amusing 
scenes  in  the  Piazza,  the  sparkling  of  the  great  foun- 
tain, and  the  picturesque  figures,  models,  and  con- 
tadini,  that  group  themselves  upon  the  Spanish 
steps,  so  familiar  to  all  visitors  of  Rome.  We  had 
a  large  old-fashioned  drawing-room,  hung  with  dim 
long  mirrors,  that  gave  a  shadowy  unreality  to 
everything  they  reflected,  and  faded  damask  hang- 
ings, and  an  enormous,  cavernous,  deep-mouthed 
fire-place,  with  sulky  martial  figures  in  dim  brass 
for  the  fire-dogs.  The  blazing  logs,  though  the 
warmth  they  gave  went  half  up  the  huge  chimney 
(and  when  the  room  was  full  that  was  no  great 
harm),  sent  the  most  cheerful  flicker,  the  only  light 
that  seemed  to  penetrate  their  dimness,  into  the 
mirrors.  Here  my  aunt  sat,  always  with  a  certain 
gentle  dignity ;  for  though  she  was  not  fond  of 
being  looked  upon  as  a  lion,  she  was  far  from  being 
destitute  of  a  sense  of  her  own  well-won  honours, 
and  felt  the  social  homage  she  received  in  her  own 
house  to  be  her  due.  Her  companion,  I  fear,  as  she 
says  in  a  previous  letter,  had  now  and  then  her 
little  head  slightly  turned  by  the  strange  discovery 
that  there  were  people  who  thought  her  also  worth 
talking  to ;  and  thus,  in  the  very  moment  when 
Providence  seemed  to  have  given  to  Mrs.  Jameson 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  243 

a  child  who  might  cherish  and  comfort  her  for  years 
and  make  up  to  her  a  little  for  the  adversities  of 
fate — at  the  time  when  she  began  to  get  a  little 
real  pleasure  and  aid  from  the  girl  to  whom  she 
had  been  a  second  mother  all  her  life,  another  great 
disappointment  was  already  preparing  for  her.  I 
cannot  but  feel,  with  a  remorseful  pang,  how  bitter 
it  must  have  been  to  her  to  see  the  child  she  had 
so  cherished  desert  her  so  summarily.  It  is  the 
course  of  nature,  as  people  say,  and  it  is  only  by 
the  teachings  of  years  that  we  perceive  how  hardly 
the  loves  and  joys  of  our  youth  often  fall  upon 
those  from  whom  the  tide  of  our  own  personal  life 
and  story  carries  us  away.  Mrs.  Jameson,  of  course, 
no  more  than  any  other  in  her  position,  would  wil- 
lingly have  kept  her  niece  unmarried  in  order  to 
make  of  her  a  permanent  companion  ;  but  the  speedy 
conclusion  of  this  companionship  startled  her  and, 
I  fear,  must  be  counted  among  the  disappointments 
of  her  life. 

This,  however,  is  not  a  matter  of  any  importance 
in  these  pages,  though  I  can  scarcely  pass  it  entirely 
without  mention,  as  a  thing  which  put  a  stop  to  some 
of  my  aunt's  hopes  and  cherished  intentions.  Her 
life  in  Rome  was  a  very  pleasant  one  while  undis- 
turbed by  all  agitations  of  this  kind.  As  she  her- 
self wrote,  she  went  nowhere  unconnected  with  her 
present  labours,  unless  it  were  occasionally  for  a 


R    2 


244  ANNA  JAMESON. 

long  drive,  after  the  day's  toils  might  be  considered 
as  over,  away  into  the  Campagna  with  Ottilie  or 
with  Miss  Montgomery.  There  were  certain  old 
churches  that  she  never  wearied  in  revisiting — those 
of  which  she  afterwards  said  in  her  chapter  on  the 
Roman  Martyrs  : 

For  myself,  I  must  say  I  know  nothing  to  compare 
with  a  pilgrimage  among  the  antique  churches  scattered 
over  the  Esquiline,  the  Ccelian,  and  the  Aventine  Hills. 
They  stand  apart,  each  in  its  solitude  amid  gardens,  and 
vineyards,  and  heaps  of  nameless  ruins — here  a  group  of 
cypresses,  there  a  lofty  pine  or  solitary  palm  ;  the  tutelary 
saint,  perhaps  some  San?  Achilleo  or  Santa  Bibiana, 
whom  we  never  heard  of  before  ;  an  altar  rich  in  precious 
marbles,  columns  of  porphyry,  the  old  frescoes  dropping 
from  the  walls,  the  everlasting  colossal  mosaics  looking 
down  so  solemn,  so  dim,  so  spectral ; — these  grow  upon  us, 
until,  at  each  succeeding  visit,  they  themselves,  and  the 
associations  with  which  they  are  surrounded,  become  a 
part  of  our  daily  life,  and  may  be  said  to  hallow  that  daily 
life  when  considered  in  a  right  spirit.  True,  what  is  most 
sacred,  what  is  most  poetical,  is  often  desecrated  to  the 
fancy  by  the  intrusion  of  those  prosaic  realities  which 
easily  strike  prosaic  minds ;  by  disgust  at  the  foolish 
fabrications  which  those  who  recite  them  do  not  believe, 
by  lying  inscriptions,  by  tawdry  pictures,  by  tasteless  and 
even  profane  restorations ;  by  much  that  saddens,  much 
that  offends,  much  that  disappoints.  But  then  so  much 
remains — so  much  to  awaken,  to  elevate,  to  touch  the 
heart — so  much  that  will  not  from  the  memory,  so  much 
that  makes  a  part  of  our  after-life ! 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  245 

Of  San  Clemente,  one  of  her  favourite  haunts, 
Mrs.  Jameson  says  comparatively  little,  and  avers 
as  her  reason  for  not  saying  more  *  of  this  sin- 
gular and  interesting  church,  the  favourite  study  of 
artists  and  antiquaries,'  that  descriptions  of  it  may 
be  found  in  every  guide-book.  She  contents  her- 
self with  merely  giving  the  legend  of  the  patron 
saint,  the  disciple  of  St  Peter  and  St  Paul,  and 
third  bishop  of  Rome  ;  and  in  the  life  of  St.  Cathe- 
rine of  Alexandria  a  list  of  the  subjects  from  the 
life  of  this  '  virgin  patroness '  painted  in  the  chapel 
there  by  Masaccio.  The  long-concealed  substruc- 
tures of  this  venerable  Basilica,  built  over  what  is 
generally  now  believed  to  be  the  most  ancient 
Christian  oratory — the  house  of  Clemens — had  not 
seen  the  light  after  its  sepulture  of  over  a  thou- 
sand years :  neither  then  nor  at  either  of  the 
later  visits  paid  by  Mrs.  Jameson  to  the  Eternal 
City.  Otherwise  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  such 
remains  of  an  'antique  time'  would  have  secured  -a 
notice  in  her  pages,  and  perhaps  a  modification  of 
her  belief  upon  the  then  existing  testimonies,  '  that 
the  legend  of  St.  Catherine  is  not  of  high  antiquity  ; 
even  among  the  Greeks  it  cannot  be  traced  further 
back  than  the  eighth  century ;  and  in  the  East  it 
appears  to  have  originated  with  the  monks  of  Mount 
Sinai.  In  a  literary  form  we  find  it  first  in  the 
Greek  Menology  of  the  Emperor  Basil  in  the  ninth 


246  ANNA  JAMESON. 

century.     The    Crusaders   of  the  eleventh  century 
brought  it  from  the  East,'  &c. 

The  Byzantine  St.  Catherine,  which  has  been 
discovered  in  the  original  church  of  San  Cle- 
mente,  facing  a  similar  early  representation  of  St. 
Euphemia  (surnamed  the  Great),  martyred  near 
Byzantium  early  in  the  fourth  century,  and  known 
to  have  been  painted  by  Greek  artists  a  few  years 
after  her  death,  affords  a  strong  argument  against 
this  conclusion  ;  and  had  Mrs.  Jameson  seen  these 
richly  attired  solemn  effigies  standing  in  the  niche 
beside  the  throned  Virgin  and  Child,  each  distin- 
guished by  her  name  inscribed  near  her  in  old 
Greek  characters,  and  found  them  to  belong  to  the 
early  date  assigned  them,  she  would  have  naturally 
shared  in  the  belief  held  by  the  reverend  Prior  of  San 
Clemente,  the  fortunate  discoverer  of  the  lost  church 
and  oratory  of  the  disciple  of  the  Apostles ;  and 
here,  too,  she  would  have  found  a  painting  com- 
memorating her  favourite  Saint  Alexis,  '  whose 
story,  as  given  in  the  "  Legendario  Romano,"  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  sacred  romances  of  the 
Middle  Ages.' 

Part  of  her  leisure  she  gave  to  visiting  the 
studios  that  abounded  then,  as  now,  in  Rome ;  and 
these  visits  may  in  truth  be  said  to  have  proved  in 
many  cases  as  interesting  to  the  artist  as  to  herself 
and  her  privileged  companion  of  the  hour ;  for  her 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  247 

intuitive  sympathy  and  generous  appreciation,  even 
her  frank  disapproval  at  times,  and  ready  sugges- 
tion, where  suggestion  might  avail,  fell  from  her 
lips  with  such  gracious  expression,  that  praise  was 
sweetened  and  blame  rendered  acceptable. 

After  Easter  Mrs.  Jameson  left  Rome  and 
travelled  north  by  Florence,  where  she  found  the 
Brownings ;  Bologna,  where  Mrs.  Somerville  showed 
her  kindly  hospitality;  Ravenna,  Padua,  and  Vi- 
cenza,  to  Venice.  A  month  passed  quickly  in  this 
enchanting  place,  where  the  mornings  were  spent  in 
the  Belle  Arti  and  the  Accademia,  and  the  after- 
noons among  the  churches  and  the  lagunes.  Thence 
to  Verona  and  the  Lago  di  Garda,  where  once  more 
we  met  Miss  Montgomery,  and,  above  all,  the  Noels, 
and  spent  some  delightful  days  at  Riva  and  at 
Desenzano.  One  last  halt  was  made  at  Meran  to 
take  leave  of  Mme.  de  Goethe  and  her  then  still 
invalid  son  ;  and  then  straight  on  to  Paris  and  to 
England. 

Thus  her  proposed  long  absence  from  England, 
which  was  intended  for  her  niece's  benefit  as  well 
as  her  own,  terminated  abruptly.  Before  Mrs. 
Jameson  left  Rome,  towards  the  end  of  April,  the 
book  and  its  illustrations  were  approaching  com- 
pletion. But  the  whole  of  the  summer  was  given 
in  addition,  and  it  was  not  till  the  month  of  De- 
cember 1848  that  Mrs.  Jameson,  writing  to  Mr. 


248  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Longman  evidently  in  reply  to  some  suggestion 
made  by  him  as  to  the  difficulty  she  would  probably 
experience  in  treating  of  the  '  Prince  of  Darkness,' 
says : 

I  shall  be  very  glad  to  give  the  devil  his  due.  You 
will  remember  that  in  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament  he 
is  scarcely  recognised  as  a  person.  The  book  of  Job  is  of 
Chaldaic  origin,  as  it  is  said  by  some  of  the  best  commen- 
tators, and  the  angels  in  their  proper  character  are  not 
the  Anime  Beate.  When  you  see  the  Legend  of  St. 
Michael,  you  will  see  how  I  have  treated  the  Adversary  \ 
but  keep  in  mind  that  I  deal  with  my  subject  poetically 
and  pictorially,  not  religiously.  I  have  insisted  on  this  in 
the  introduction. 

The  stirring  times  of  1847-49  were  scarcely 
opportune  for  the  publishing  of  works  on  art  of  any 
-kind.  The  public  mind  was  distraught ;  events  fol- 
lowed one  another  so  rapidly  that  men  grew  giddy 
and  breathless,  and  Mrs.  Jameson's  letters  to  her 
correspondent  Noel  are  full  of  the  politics  of  the  day, 
without  one  mention  of  the  book  whose  publication 
was  imminent.  She  writes  from  Ealingon  March  10, 
1848: 

At  present  we  are  all  hi  the  first  excitement  of  this 
new  revolution.  There  are  some  disturbances  here,  but 
not  worth  speaking  of,  except  as  mere  rabble-work  ;  some 
windows  broken,  some  heads,  and  one  or  two  unfortunate 
people  shot  in  the  meMe.  But  the  middle  classes  here  are 
quiet ;  and  though  they  desire  progress,  they  desire  no 
change  ;  and  everyone  is  now  agreed  that,  but  for  the 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  249 

pusillanimity  shown  by  Louis  Philippe  and  his  family,  a 
change  of  ministry  would  have  satisfied  the  people  in 
France.  Do  not  believe  any  of  the  reports  in  the  German 
papers  about  disturbances  here,  for  in  fact,  though  there 
be  disturbances,  there  is  nothing  more  ;  no  such  feeling 
against  the  government  as  in  France  was  universal. 
Had  that  treacherous  and  selfish  old  king  prospered  to  the 
end,  I  should  have  doubted  Providence  !  What  has  in- 
terested me  almost  as  much  as  the  Revolution  has  been 
the  result  of  a  murder  here,  which,  from  the  feeling  it  has 
roused,  may  possibly  lead  to  some  first  step  in  a  moral 
sanitary  reform. 

Do  you  see  the  '  Times '  newspaper  ?  I  do  not  like 
violence ;  I  do  not  like  the  canaille ;  I  do  not  like  dis- 
turbance or  discord  of  any  kind  ;  but  I  should  like  a 
change  which  would  leave  free  the  intercourse  of  men, 
minds,  and  nations. 

Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  the  same  friend  three 
months  later,  also  from  Ealing : 

These  French  are  the  mischief-makers  of  Europe,  and 
it  is  small  comfort  that  themselves  will  be  the  greatest 
sufferers.  We  have  terrible  news  from  Paris.  How  much 
a  few  leading  spirits  are  wanted  at  this  moment !  Surely 
the  selfishness  and  imbecility  of  the  various  governments 
are  in  fault  as  much  as  the  misguided  people.  Such  a 
mass  of  ignorance  and  misery  weltering  under  the  surface 
of  society,  particularly  in  the  Austrian  dominions — this 
could  not  last.  In  England  we  are  all  tranquil,  and  I 
have  faith  in  the  permanence  of  this  tranquillity,  unless 
the  dreadful  state  of  the  Continent,  by  cutting  off  our 
commercial  resources,  should  create  such  a  mass  of  want 
and  misery  as  can  no  longer  be  endured.  Then  the  people 
may  break  loose.  But  we  have  here,  what  exists  not,  I 


250  ANNA  JAMESON. 

believe,  anywhere  else — an  immense  middle  class  of  several 
grades,  from  high  professional  people  down  to  the  shop- 
keepers, tolerably  well  educated,  accustomed  to  political 
considerations,  and  who  are  perfectly  aware  that  they 
must  all  suffer  from  disorganisation  ;  and  this,  and  the 
feeling  which  exists  generally  that  order  must  be  main- 
tained— this  will  perhaps  save  us.  What  strange  times  are 
these ! 

June  29. — I  have  kept  open  my  letter,  dearest  Noel. 
The  events  at  Paris  have  made  us  quite  heart-sick  and 
breathless.  The  result  has  been  victory  on  the  side  of 
order  and  of  power  ;  but  what  a  victory  !  And  what  result 
are  we  to  look  to  from  that  victory,  which  must  tend  to 
strengthen  a  military  aristocracy  and  despotism  ?  And 
what  they  will  do  with  the  prisoners  is  now  the  question. 
Some  people  anticipate  a  massacre  like  the  Septembricides 
in.the  first  Revolution.  The  only  piece  of  news  I  can  send 
you  not  generally  known  is  the  fact  that  our  Queen  has 
determined  to  go  to  Ireland,  and  has  obtained  with  diffi- 
culty the  sanction  of  the  Ministers.  She  wished  to  have 
gone  last  year,  but  they  would  not  take  the  responsibility 
of  permitting  her  to  do  so.  This  year  she  has  carried  the 
point.  It  is  a  brave  little  woman,  without  shining  qualities, 
but  with  a  good  deal  of  sense  and  spirit. 

In  the  autumn  the  book  was  at  length  ready  for 
the  press.  There  had  been  a  succession  of  delays, 
caused  chiefly  by  incessant  additions,  and  so  laborious 
a  revision  of  the  proofs  that  again  and  again  Mrs. 
Jameson,  in  her  conscientious  anxiety  to  give  her 
best  to  the  public,  overstepped  the  limits  allowed 
by  her  contract,  and  corrected  and  re-corrected  at 
her  own  expense.  No  sooner  was  it  fairly  in 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  251 

the  printer's  hands,  however,  a  fait  accompli,  than 
she  took  flight  from  the  scenes  of  her  cares  and 
anxieties,  and  fulfilled  a  long-cherished  intention  of 
revisiting  Ireland,  which  she  had  not  seen  since  she 
quitted  it  with  her  father  and  mother  in  1798.  She 
had  received  pressing  invitations  from  an  old  and 
valued  family  friend,  the  then  Lord  Chancellor  of 
Ireland,  Maziere  Brady,  from  Miss  Edgeworth 
and  others,  which  decided  her  on  leaving  London, 
or  rather  England,  while  her  book  took  final  shape 
and  form. 

From   Hazelbrook,  near  Dublin,  Mrs.   Jameson 
wrote  to  her  sister  on  September  30,  1848  : 

The  best  thing  I  can  do  for  your  amusement  is  to  give 
you  an  itinerary  of  my  proceedings.  On  Tuesday  I  left 
Hazelbrook,  with  the  Chancellor,  his  wife  and  youngest 
daughter,  in  a  very  pretty  open  barouche.  We  went 
through  a  beautiful  country  among  the  Wicklow  mountains 
to  Enniskerry,  where  we  had  a  hospitable  reception  and 
luncheon  in  a  most  romantic  spot.  Then  on  to  Powers- 
court,  through  the  beautiful  grounds,  and  on  to  Bray, 
where  dinner  had  been  ordered,  and  where  we  slept. 
Wednesday,  27th,  we  left  Bray,  after  admiring  the  beach 
and  the  promontory  of  Bray  Head,  and  drove  through 
the  most  lovely  scenery  to  Rathdrum,  where  we  entered 
the  vale  of  Avoca,  saw  the  '  meeting  of  the  waters,'  and 
followed  the  course  of  the  river  through  the  valley  to  the 
sea,  passing  through  Arklow,  and  returning  to  the  Avoca 
Inn,  where  we  slept.  Thursday,  28th,  we  left  Avoca  early, 
and  drove  through  the  wildest  and  most  beautiful  moun- 
tain scenery  to  the  vale  of  Glendalough  (the  '  Valley  of  the 


252  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Seven  Churches '),  where  we  visited  the  Round  Tower,  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Kevin,  and  then  returned  by  Annamoe, 
Roundwood,  and  through  the  mountain  passes  to  Bray, 
where  we  dined  and  slept  at  the  same  delightful  inn.  On 
Friday,  29th,  we  returned  to  Dublin  by  the  Dargle,  in 
which  we  spent  two  hours,  wandering  about  while  the 
carriage  waited. 

You  see  my  time  has  been  hitherto  most  pleasantly 
employed.  The  excursion  was  delightful  altogether,  with- 
out losses  or  crosses  ;  everybody  in  high  good  humour — 
no  cares,  having  two  servants  in  attendance  and  our  own 
carriage — while  as  to  the  scenery,  I  cannot  express  its 
beauty,  so  different  in  character  from  anything  I  had 
seen  in  Italy  or  Germany.  My  dearest  mother  will  be 
able  to  follow  me  every  step  of  the  way.  On  our  return 
we  had  a  beautiful  view  of  Killiney  mountain  and  bay, 
which  made  me  think  of  Eliza.  To-day  it  is  pouring  rain, 
so  we  just  got  home  in  time. 

Making  the  hospitable  mansion  of  the  Chancellor 
her  temporary  home,  Mrs.  Jameson  went  thence  on 
various  long  excursions  north  and  south,  visiting 
Miss  Edgeworth,  Archbishop  Whately  and  his 
family,  the  Archers,  &c.,  on  her  way  south.  On 
October  24,  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Longman  from  the 
fair  city  of  Limerick  : 

DEAR  MR.  LONGMAN, — I  found  your  letter  here  ;  pray 
do  not  forget  that  I  wish  only  two  copies  sent  to  Dublin  — 
the  others  to  my  address  at  Baling.  I  wish  my  dear 
mother  to  be  the  first  person  to  have  a  copy,  as  in  duty 
bound.  I  am  afraid  the  book-  will  be  too  expensive — that 
my  vanity  wHl  be  gratified  at  the  expense  of  my  pocket. 
I  am  afraid  it  will  not  do,  and  begin  to  wish  I  had  fol- 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  253 

lowed  my  first  thought,  and  published  it  cheaply.  Who 
buys  or  reads  expensive  books  in  these  days  ?  /  do  not, 
certainly  ;  but  I  am  in  your  hands,  and  feel  sure  that  you 
will  do  the  best  you  can  for  me.  I  shall  deliver  your  mes- 
sage myself  to  the  great  Maria.1  She  is  writing  some- 
thing (entre  nous).  She  is  full  of  life  and  vivacity,  and  is 
now  eighty-one,  as  she  told  me  herself. 

I  have  also  spent  two  days  with  Lord  Rosse  at  Bin 
Castle,  and  have  seen  the  awful  telescope,  and  not  only 
looked  into  it,  but  walked  into  it.  As  for  Ireland,  there 
may  be — I  hope  there  is — redemption  for  her  some  time 
or  other,  but  nothing  can  be  gloomier  than  the  present 
prospects.  I  saw  yesterday  the  departure  of  a  troop  of 
half-starved  emigrants  from  their  desperate  families ;  I 
have  not  yet  recovered  from  the  spectacle— it  was  a  ter- 
rible tragedy. 

On  November  8,  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  the 
same : 

I  have  just  seen  a  review  in  the  '  Examiner,'  written  in 
a  very  kind  spirit.  I  have  been  very  much  indisposed. 
The  miserable  spectacles  I  have  witnessed,  the  severe 
weather,  the  bad  travelling  accommodation,  anxiety  about 
friends  abroad,  have  conspired  to  bring  on  a  sort  of  low 
fever,  from  which  I  am  now  recovering. 

Dublin,  November  24. 

DEAR  MR.  LONGMAN, — I  have  received  my  book  ;  it 
looks  very  pretty,  and  I  get  plenty  of  compliments,  as  a 
matter  of  course  ;  but  compliments  do  not  mean  success, 
and  as  yet  I  do  not  know  what  to  hope  on  that  score.  I 
wonder  why  anybody  should  care  to  read  it  in  these 
agitated  times. 

1  Mrs.  Jameson  had  been  staying  with  the  Edgeworth  family  at 
Edgeworthstown. 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


Notwithstanding  Mrs.  Jameson's  apprehensions, 
the  success  of  her  volumes  on  '  Sacred  and  Le- 
gendary Art '  was  entirely  satisfactory  to  herself,  to 
her  friends,  and,  last  not  least,  to  her  publishers. 
She  had  carried  on  her  notes  and  studies  and  illus- 
trations for  the  second  in  order  of  the  series,  '  The 
Monastic  Orders,'  simultaneously  with  the  first,  so 
that  she  was  less  oppressed  for  the  time  with  close 
work  in  order  to  be  ready  for  press  by  a  given  date. 

Of  her  journey  to  Ireland  as  a  whole,  looking 
back  upon  the  three  months  passed  in  her  own 
country,  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  her  impressions  to 
Mr.  Noel  on  December  16  : 

In  the  first  week  of  last  September,  being  quite  worn 
out  with  hard  work,  I  ran  away  for  change.  I  was  quite 
ill.  I  ran  to  Ireland,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  because 
I  felt  ashamed  that  I  had  not  visited  my  native  land.  I 
went  from  Dublin  to  Enniskillen  and  Lough  Erne,  then 
southwards  to  Longford,  where  I  spent  ten  days  with  the 
Edgeworths,  and  found  that  celebrated  family  as  charming 
as  the  world  had  believed  them.  Maria  Edgeworth  lively 
and  full  of  all  natural  sympathies  at  the  age  of  eighty-one. 
Thence  I  travelled  through  Galway,  and  saw  the  sun  set 
on  the  Atlantic  ;  then  through  Limerick,  Tipperary,  Clon- 
mel,  Waterford,  Wexford,  and  so  back  to  Dublin,  where, 
before  I  left,  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  society.  You  will  now 
ask  me  what  are  my  general  impressions.  I  have  seen 
enough  to  make  me  hopeless,  but  yet  I  hope.  In  the 
north  the  linen  trade  is  prospering,  every  loom  at  work. 
In  the  west  and  south,  all  property,  all  society  appear 
to  be  falling  into  a  state  of  dissolution.  The  failure  of 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  255 

the  potatoes  has  changed  the  face  of  the  country.  The 
people  die,  or  emigrate,  or  crowd  into  the  poor-houses. 
The  poor-rates  press  so  heavily  on  the  already  burdened 
land  that  the  landlords  are  driven  to  despair.  The  poor- 
law,  unfit  in  its  present  working  for  Ireland  or  the  Irish, 
seems  destined  to  complete  the  process  of  degradation. 
I  heard  Archbishop  Whately  call  it  '  the  last  and  most 
fatal  of  England's  blunders  with  regard  to  ill-fated  Ireland.' 
If  governments  can  profit,  as  we  hope  they  can,  in  these 
enlightened  times,  by  the  past,  Ireland  will  not  have 
suffered  in  vain.  But  when  I  was  there  I  could  not  specu- 
late and  philosophise  ;  I  could  only  feel  sick  at  heart, 
viewing  the  horrible  misery  which  met  me  at  every  step — 
large  buildings,  once  mills  and  manufactories,  all  empty 
idleness  and  desolation  and  starvation  everywhere.  The 
government  is  really  trying  do  do  something,  but  with  the 
best  will  it  is  a  work  of  two  or  three  generations.  The 
English  papers  and  wiseacres  talk  gravely  of  colonising 
Ireland — what  a  comment  on  its  condition  !  Lord 
Clarendon  is  considered  the  best  and  most  efficient  Lord 
Lieutenant  ever  sent  to  that  country,  and  there  is  a  mingled 
decision,  vivacity,  kindliness,  and  power  in  his  character 
which  will,  I  hope,  work  well.  He  is  both  loved  and 
feared. 

I  may  add  here  a  more  pleasant  chapter  of  her 
experiences  in  Ireland,  taken  from  her  '  Commonplace 
Book : ' 

When  travelling  in  Ireland,  I  stayed  over  one  Sunday 
in  a  certain  town  in  the  north,  and  rambled  out  early  in 
the  morning.  It  was  cold  and  wet,  the  streets  empty  and 
quiet,  but  the  sound  of  voices  drew  me  in  one  direction, 
down  a  court  where  there  was  a  Roman  Catholic  chapel. 
It  was  so  crowded  that  many  of  the  congregation  stood 


256  ANNA  JAMESON. 

round  the  door.  I  remarked  among  them  a  number  of 
soldiers  and  most  miserable-looking  women.  All  made 
way  for  me  with  true  national  courtesy,  and  I  entered  at 
the  moment  the  priest  was  finishing  mass,  and  about  to 
begin  his  sermon.  There  was  no  pulpit,  and  he  stood  on 
the  step  of  the  altar ;  a  fine-looking  man,  with  a  bright 
face,  a  sonorous  voice,  and  a  very  strong  Irish  accent. 
His  text  was  from  Matt.  v.  43,  44. 

He  began  by  explaining  what  Christ  really  meant  by 
the  words  '  Love  thy  neighbour,'  then  drew  a  picture  in 
contrast  of  hatred  and  dissension,  commencing  with  dis- 
sension in  families,  between  kindred,  and  between  husband 
and  wife.  Then  he  made  a  most  touching  appeal  in  be- 
half of  children  brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  contention, 
where  no  love  is.  '  God  help  them  !  God  pity  them  ! 
small  chance  for  them  of  being  either  good  or  happy,  for 
their  young  hearts  are  saddened  and  soured  with  strife,  and 
they  eat  their  bread  in  bitterness ! '  Then  he  preached 
patience  to  the  wives,  indulgence  to  the  husbands,  and 
denounced  scolds  and  quarrelsome  women  in  a  manner 
that  seemed  to  glance  at  recent  events.  '  When  ye  are 
found  in  the  streets  vilifying  and  slandering  one  another, 
ay,  fighting  and  tearing  each  other's  hair,  do  ye  think 
ye' re  women  ?  No,  ye're  not,  ye're  devils  incarnate,  and 
ye'll  go  where  the  devils  will  be  fit  companions  for  ye  ! ' 
&c.  (Here  some  women  near  me,  with  long  black  hair 
streaming  down,  fell  on  their  knees  sobbing  with  contri- 
tion.) He  then  went  on  in  the  same  strain  of  homely 
eloquence  to  the  evils  of  political  and  religious  hatred,  and 
quoted  the  text,  '  If  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you, 
live  peaceably  with  all  men.'  '  I'm  a  Catholic,'  he  went 
on,  '  and  I  believe  in  the  truth  of  my  own  religion  above  all 
others.  I'm  convinced,  by  long  study  and  observation,  it's 
the  best  that  is  ;  but  what  then  ?  Do  ye  think  1  hate  my 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  257 

neighbour  because  he  thinks  differently  ?  Do  ye  think  I 
mane  to  force  my  religion  down  other  people's  throats  ? ' 

He  then  insisted  and  demonstrated  that  all  the  miseries  of 
life,  all  the  sorrows  and  mistakes  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, and,  in  particular, all  the  disasters  of  Ireland,  the  bank- 
rupt landlords,  the  religious  dissensions,  the  fights  domestic 
and  political,  the  rich  without  care  for  the  poor,  and  the 
poor  without  food  or  work — all  arose  from  nothing  but  the 
want  of  love.  '  Down  on  your  knees,'  he  exclaimed,  '  and 
ask  God's  mercy  and  pardon ;  and,  as  ye  hope  to  find  it, 
ask  pardon  of  one  another  for  every  angry  word  ye  have 
spoken,  for  every  uncharitable  thought  that  has  come  into 
your  minds  ;  and  if  any  man  or  woman  have  aught  against 
his  neighbour,  no  matter  what,  let  it  be  plucked  out  of  his 
heart  before  he  leaves  this  place,  let  it  be  forgotten  at  the 
door  of  this  chapel.  Let  me,  your  pastor,  have  no  more 
rason  to  be  ashamed  of  you,  as  if  I  were  set  over  wild 
bastes,  instead  of  Christian  men  and  women  ! ' 

After  more  in  this  fervid  strain,  which  I  cannot  recol- 
lect, he  gave  his  blessing  in  the  same  earnest  heartfelt 
manner.  I  never  saw  a  congregation  more  attentive, 
more  reverent,  and  apparently  more  touched  and  edi- 
fied (1848.) 

From  the  melancholy  scenes  which  thus  distressed 
her,  endowed  as  she  was  with  sympathy  too  keen 
for  her  own  comfort,  she  soon  passes,  however,  to 
a  very  different  scene  ;  and  the  next  letter  we  find  is 
from  the  cheerful,  though  to  her  most  unsympa- 
thetic, locality  of  Brighton,  whence  she  writes  to  Mr. 
Noel  in  January  1849.  The  sketch  of  the  great 
preacher  here  given  will  interest  many  readers  : 

s 


258  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  am  at  Brighton.  We  have  had  a  sick  house,  and  my 
niece  and  sister  are  here  for  change.  My  great  pleasure 
is  hearing  Mr.  Robertson  preach.  I  met  him  at  dinner 
yesterday,  and  we  talked  of  you.  He  desired  me  to 
say  that  he  should  never  forget  the  days  passed  with 
you  at  Botzen,  and  that  he  wishes  he  had  followed  your 
advice  two  years  ago.  He  wishes  that  he  had  called 
sooner  on  Lady  Byron  ;  there  is  great  mutual  admiration 
apparently.  I  went  yesterday  twice  to  church  to  hear 
Robertson  preach.  I  never  heard  anything  to  equal  him 
in  eloquence — really  fine  speaking,  not  mere  fervour  and 
fluency  ;  a  logical  distribution  of  his  subject,  and  an  entire 
command  of  himself  and  his  own  power,  as  well  as  of  his 
audience.  In  general  fine  preachers  disturb  me  and  shock 
my  taste,  because  they  are  carried  away  by  their  own  ex- 
citement. He  never  is.  I  regret  to  see  that  he  is  in  deli- 
cate health. 

I  need  not  apologise  for  introducing  here  the 
following  letter  from  Sir  Robert  Peel  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Mrs.  Jameson's  Irish  experiences,  which 
called  forth  in  him  feelings  so  similar  to  her  own  : 

Drayton  Manor,  April  8,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — Your  letter  reached  me 
just  as  I  had  concluded  reading  an  article  in  the  '  Edin- 
burgh Review '  on  '  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,'  and  was 
rejoicing  in  the  tribute  of  full  approbation  paid  to  your 
'  eloquent  and  beautiful  volumes.' 

I  did  you  injustice  in  feeling  some  momentary  surprise 
that  you  could  turn  from  the  splendid  visions  of  St. 
Christopher  and  St.  Catherine  to  the  personal  examination 
of  the  terrible  realities  of  the  west  of  Ireland. 


TRA  VELS  AND  STUDIES.  259 

I  wish  you  could  not  confirm  my  mournful  impressions 
as  to  the  present,  and  my  gloomy  anticipations  of  the 
future.  I  would  willingly  have  resigned  even  the  great 
satisfaction  I  have  derived  from  concurrence  in  my  general 
views  and  sentiments,  expressed  with  much  force  and 
feeling,  for  an  assurance  from  your  pen  that  my  apprehen- 
sions as  to  the  extent  and  rapid  increase  of  moral  and 
social  evil  were  without  foundation. 

That  assurance,  however,  you  cannot  give  me,  and  all 
that  is  left  for  us  is  to  cherish  the  hope  that  this  chastening 
of  the  Almighty  may  be  sent  for  some  beneficent  pur- 
pose ;  and  that,  by  awakening  us  to  a  true  sense  of  our 
danger,  it  may  stimulate  exertions  that  would  not  other- 
wise be  made  for  the  social  improvement  of  Ireland.  Be- 
lieve me,  my  dear  madam,  very  faithfully  yours, 

ROBERT  PEEL. 

The  following  remarks  upon  a  subject  which 
has  again  become  very  near,  and  of  the  greatest 
interest  to  all  who  are  concerned  (and  who  is  not 
concerned  ?)  in  European  politics,  were  written  to  a 
friend  on  May  24  : 

As  to  politics,  the  continental  politics  distance  all 
imaginings.  ...  Of  the  result  I  entertain  no  doubt.  The 
spirit  now  stirring  through  Europe  is  not  to  be  put  down 
by  Russia,  though  the  Russian  hordes  may  overrun  and 
devastate  Europe,  and  for  the  time  turn  the  current  in 
favour  of  Austria.  Even  this  is  doubtful,  for  the  Russian 
army  is  a  vile  machine.  It  is  one  thing  to  gain  battles 
and  make  carnage,  it  is  another  thing  to  conquer.  What 
conquests  has  Russia  ever  made  ?  As  to  our  state  here,  - 
we  are  tranquil.  There  was  a  chance  of  the  ministry  g 

out  on  the  navigation  laws.     It  has  blown  over,  and  but* 

. 

S  2 


260  ANNA  JAMESON. 

for  that  wretched  political  ulcer,  poor  Ireland,  we  might 
be  deemed  prosperous.  The  Funds  are  at  93  to-day. 

On  Saturday  the  Queen  was  shot  at  in  the  Park  by 
some  idle  fellow,  and  we  have  since  been  in  a  fever  of 
loyalty.  The  fact  is  that  the  Queen  has  never  been  so 
popular.  The  evils  and  miseries  of  the  Continent,  a  horror 
of  disorder,  her  own  blameless  and  conscientious  life  and 
excellent  conduct,  the  good  sense  shown  of  late  by  Prince 
Albert  in  aiding  plans  for  the  amelioration  of  the  people, 
have  greatly  tended  to  endear  both  to  the  public,  and 
when  they  appeared  at  the  theatre  their  reception  was 
enthusiastic. 

For  all  that,  I  do  not  think  that  we  are  in  safe  har- 
bour, that  the  tempest  will  sweep  by  us  and  leave  us  un- 
touched. I  am  not  sure  I  wish  it ;  but  there  is  a  principle 
of  vitality  and  development  in  our  institutions,  admitting 
change  before  it  is  forced  upon  us,  and  the  privileges  of 
grumbling  aloud,  speechifying,  abusing  and  caricaturing 
the  ruling  powers,  are  so  many  safety-valves.  The  conti- 
nental nations  are  like  children  trying  to  use  the  two-edged 
instruments  with  which  our  hands  are  familiar  ;  they  only 
cut  themselves.  When  I  go  to  town,  I  shall  probably -see 
Mr.  Cobden,  and  I  will  tell  him  what  you  say.  When  I 
was  last  in  town,  I  was  at  a  party  at  his  house,  and  then 
soon  afterwards  at  a  party  at  Lord  Lansdowne's.  The 
difference  was  amusing. 

Many  people  look  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  at  present.  I 
sometimes  think  he  is  waiting  to  be  forced  into  office  by 
the  voice  of  the  people,  and  that  the  time  may  be  at  hand. 

After  all  these  comments  on  public  affairs  we 
return  to  her  private  life  in  the  following  letter  to 
Miss  Sedgwick  : 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  261 

Ealing  :  October  10,  1849. 

MY  DEAREST  CATHERINE, — As  I  was  returning  home 
yesterday  in  the   railway   train   from   Derbyshire,    I  was 
thinking  of  you,  and  that  I  must  and  should  write  to  you 
forthwith  ;  and  lo  !  as  I  was  walking  up  the  road  home- 
wards, I  met  the  postman,  who  touched  his  hat,  and  put  a 
letter  into  my  hand — yours,  by  Mrs.  Pollen,  but  dated  so 
long  ago,  July,  and  this  is  October.      As  I  was  devouring 
the  lines  by  the  imperfect  light,  I  had  nearly  been  run 
over   by  a   stage-coach.      I  had   heard   of  Mrs.  Pollen's 
arrival,  and  only  waited  her  arrival  in  town  to  hold  out  my 
arms  to  her.     Yes,  I  remember  her  well ;  and,  for  her  own 
sake  and  for  yours,  I  shall  be  charmed  to  see  her  again. 
How  I  feel  sometimes  the  want  of  a  residence  in  town, 
the  want  of  a  home  to  which  I  could  welcome  my  friends ! 
This  little  cell  in   my  mother's  cottage  is  a 'sort  of  nest 
which  just  holds  my  books  and  me  ;  and  though  Words- 
worth talks  of  books  having  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and 
blood,  I  feel  often  all  the  difference ;  but  no,  I  believe,  on 
consideration,   that  it   is  we  who  have  the  tendrils,  and 
twine  round  our  books.     But,  in   any  case,  mine  don't, 
except  about  very  few — yours,,  perhaps  books  which  are 
not  mere  books.     How  is  it  with  you  ?     With  me  it  is  as 
if  the  roots  of  my  life  and  its  tendrils  too  grew  stronger  as 
I  grow  older,  and  social  life  is  becoming  more  necessary 
to  me  just  as  my  power  of  commanding  it  is  lessened  ; 
but  we  must  do  the  best  we  can.     Is  there  no  hope  of 
your  coming   to  England  —  none,    not   even   in   the   far 
future  ?     But,  at  least,  you  can  write  a  little  oftener ;  and 
so  can  I,  for  that  matter.     Your  last  I  received  on  April  4. 
I  don't  know  how  often  I  have  written  to  you  since. 

But  I  have  not  yet  told  you  something  in  which  you 
will  sympathise  with  me  truly.     My  niece  Gerardine  was 


262  ANNA  JAMESON. 

married  on  September  4  to  Robert  Macpherson,  an  artist 
by  profession,  of  a  good  Highland  family,  and  a  good, 
kind,  honest-hearted  man.  I  was  against  the  union  at 
first ;  but  what  seemed  a  sudden  rash  fancy  on  both  sides 
became  respectable  from  its  constancy.  I  am  glad  now 
that  I  yielded.  She  may  probably  have  to  suffer,  there 
will  be  a  struggle  with  the  world  ;  but  at  least  the  natural 
life  will  have  flowed  in  its  healthy  natural  course,  and  the 
trials  which  come  will  mature,  and  will  not  embitter,  the 
character.  I  hold  to  the  right  of  every  human  being  to 
work  out  their  own  salvation  ;  and  the  old  have  a  right  to 
advise,  but  no  right  to  prescribe  an  existence  to,  the  young. 
So  Geddie  has  married  the  man  whom  she  preferred  from 
the  first  moment  she  saw  him,  and  as  yet  they  are  en- 
chanted with  each  other.  They  are  now  in  Scotland, 
residing  among  his  friends  and  relations,  and  they  return 
to  Rome,  which  will  be  their  residence  for  some  years,  in 
about  three  weeks.  Then  I  lose  my  child,  poor  little 
thing  ;  and  the  present  state  of  Italy  makes  me  anxious, 
but  he  understands  his  position,  the  place,  and  the  people, 
and  I  hope  the  best.  Probably  I  shall  be  in  Italy  myself 
next  year. 

I  am  glad,  dear  Catherine,  that  you  are  happy  in  your 
Kate's  marriage  ;  give  my  love  to  her.  I  wish  I  knew  her 
husband,  that  I  might  bring  the  whole  circle  before  me.  I 
have  been  reading  Sir  Charles  Lyell's  travels  in  America. 
I  was  charmed  with  it.  Surely  it  must  please  and  interest 
in  America  ;  has  it  not  ?  Did  you  see  him  and  his  sweet 
little  wife  ?  they  are  valued  friends  of  mine.  My  '  Le- 
gendary Art '  has  had  great  success,  and  I  am  so  glad  it 
has  pleased  my  American  friends.  I  am  preparing  a  third 
volume,  the  '  Legends  of  the  Monastic  Orders,'  which  will, 
I  hope,  be  found  useful  ;  it  opens  on  a  vast  field  of  morals 
as  well  as  art,  and  the  difficulty  will,  as  formerly,  lie  in 


TRAVELS  AND  STUDIES.  26 j 

compressing  my  materials.  Do  you  know  Mrs.  Browning, 
who  was  Elizabeth  Barrett,  the  poetess  ?  I  have  had  a 
charming  letter  from  her.  Think  of  the  poor  invalid  being 
the  mother  of  a  fine  boy !  .  .  .  I  don't  and  won't  admire 
Jenny  Lind,  whose  success  has  been  of  a  kind  to  make  all 
such  triumphs  ridiculous.  She  is  an  accomplished  singer 
and  second-rate  actress  ;  we  have  had  so  many  better  !  Of 
my  dear  friend  Lady  Byron,  I  can  only  say  that  she  is 
rather  better  than  she  was  a  month  ago.  It  is  a  hopeless 
state  of  invalidism,  but  such  a  tenacity  of  life  that  I  do  not 
give  way  to  terror  about  her  now,  as  I  used  to  do.  If  you 
can  by  any  means  give  publicity  in  your  country  to  the 
enclosed  paper,  pray  do  it  ;  it  will  be  to  me  a  favour  and  a 
service.  Can  you  send  a  copy  to  Professor  Longfellow  ? 

Ever,  dearest  Catherine,  your  affectionate  friend. 
I  am  going  to  write  to  Fanny  ;  what  is  her  name  now  ? 

A  New  Year's  greeting  came  early  in  January 
from  across  the  Atlantic  that  gave  Mrs.  Jameson 
the  sincerest  pleasure,  as  any  tribute  of  esteem  or 
affection  from  her  friends  in  America  never  failed 
to  bring  her.  It  was  Mr.  Longfellow  who  thus 
addressed  her  from  Cambridge,  Massachusetts  : 

DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — Having  many  friends  who 
are  your  friends  and  admirers,  and  none  more  so  than  my 
own  wife,  I  venture  to  smuggle  myself  in  among  them  at 
this  season,  and  wish  you  all  the  good  wishes  of  the  New 
Year.  I  beg  you  to  accept  a  volume  of  poems  which  I 
have  just  published,  and  in  which  I  hope  there  may  be 
something  that  will  give  you  pleasure,  you  who  have  given 
me  so  much,  particularly  your  last  work,  '  Sacred  and 


264  ANNA  JAMESON, 

Legendary  Art.'  How  very  precious  it  is  to  me  !  Indeed, 
I  shall  hardly  try  to  express  to  you  the  feelings  of  affec- 
tion with  which  I  have  cherished  it  from  the  first  moment 
it  reached  us,  now  a  year  ago.  It  most  amply  supplies 
the  cravings  of  the  religious  sentiment,  of  the  spiritual 
nature  within.  It  produces  in  my  soul  the  same  effect 
that  great  organists  have  produced  by  laying  slight  weights 
upon  certain  keys  of  their  instruments,  thus  keeping  an 
unbroken  flow  of  melody,  whilst  their  fingers  are  busy 
with  the  other  keys  and  stops.  And  there  let  these 
volumes  lie,  pressing  just  enough  upon  my  thoughts  to 
make  perpetual  music.  God  bless  you  for  this  book ! 
Your  sincere  friend, 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


LATER  LIFE.  265 


CHAPTER    X. 

LATER    LIFE. 

FROM  the  commencement  of  the  year  1851,  Mrs. 
Jameson's  more  influential  friends  had  bestirred 
themselves  with  a  view  to  having  her  name  placed 
on  Her  Majesty's  Pension  List.  One  of  Mrs. 
Jameson's  earliest  friends,  Mrs.  Procter,  was  the  first 
to  receive  through  Mr.  Thackeray  the  intimation  that 
the  suggested  nomination  met  with  the  approval  of 
Lord  John  Russell.  Lord  Stanley  of  Alderley  had 
personally  made  the  application  to  the  Prime 
Minister,  and  sent  the  answer  he  received  enclosed 
in  a  note  from  himself  to  Mr.  Thackeray.  Mr. 
Thackeray  forwarded  both  communications  to  Mrs. 
Procter,  writing  on  Lord  Stanley's  letter  a  charac- 
teristic note  in  his  own  hand.  '  There,  ma'am,  I 
think  this  is  pretty  good  news  on  the  whole  !  Just 
found  it  at  the  Athenaeum,  where  I'm  come  to 
work.' 

Lord  John's  letter  ran  thus  : 

May  12,  1851. 

DEAR  STANLEY, — Mrs.  Jameson's  deserts  are  worthy 
of  consideration  when  I  can   recommend  for  pensions,  but 


266  ANNA  JAMESON. 

till  the  end  of  June  there  is  but  a  very  trifling  sum  at 
the  disposal  of  the  Crown.  Pray  explain  this  to  Mr. 
Thackeray.  Yours  truly, 

J.  RUSSELL. 

On  July  2  Lord  John  wrote  to  Lord  Stanley  : 

The  Queen  has  been  pleased  to  grant  a  pension  of 
ioo/.  a  year  to  Mrs.  Jameson.  I  wish  you  would  inform 
her  of  it,  and  ask  her  to  name  two  trustees  to  receive  the 
payments.  Yours  truly, 

J.  RUSSELL. 

A  letter  of  the  same  date  from  Lord  Stanley 
accompanied  this  satisfactory  note  from  Lord  John,  a 
letter  so  kind  and  considerate  that  I  cannot  refrain 
from  giving  it  here  : 

DEAR  THACKERAY, — I  have  just  received  a  letter  from 
Lord  John  Russell,  informing  me  that  the  Queen  has  been 
pleased  to  grant  a  pension  of  ioo/.  a  year  to  Mrs.  Jameson, 
and  requesting  me  to  inform  her  of  it.  As  it  was  through 
your  representations  to  me  of  the  circumstances  and  con- 
dition of  that  lady  that  I  brought  her  case  before  Lord 
John  Russell,  I  will  trust  to  your  kindness  to  make  this 
communication  to  her,  and  to  say  how  happy  I  am  to 
have  been  in  any  degree  the  means  of  bringing  forward  the 
claims  of  one  who  is  so  well  entitled  to  the  consideration 
of  her  sovereign. 

I  enclose  Lord  John's  letter,  by  which  you  will  see 
that  Mrs.  Jameson  must  name  two  trustees  to  receive  the 
payments. 

She  had,  perhaps,  better  write  a  letter  of  acknowledg- 
ment to  Lord  John,  and  if  she  likes  it  may  be  enclosed 
to  me. 


LATER  LIFE.  267 


The  trustees  named  by  Mrs.  Jameson  were  Mr. 
Thackeray  and  Mr.  Murray.  The  former  stated 
his  readiness  to  accept  the  charge  in  the  follow- 
ing delightful  little  letter  dated  from  Kensington, 
July  6  : 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  JAMESON, — I  am  very  nearly  as  pleased 
as  you  are,  and  shall  gladly  be  your  godfather  to  promise 
and  vow  the  necessary  things  in  your  name.  I  saw  Lord 
John  Russell  yesterday,  and  thanked  him,  and  told  him 
how  happy  some  people  were  made,  and  what  you  said 
about  your  mother,  which  touched  the  premier's  heart. 
And  I  wish  /  had  a  couple  of  trustees  and  a  pension 

For  yours  very  truly, 

W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

The  preparations  for  the  first  '  Great  Exhibition,' 
commonly  so  called  in  days  before  exhibitions  be- 
came so  general,  and  the  opening  in  May  1851  of 
the  Crystal  Palace  in  Hyde  Park,  were  at  this  time 
the  uppermost  subject  in  men's  minds.  Mrs.  Jame- 
son undertook  to  prepare  one  of  the  many  guide- 
books required  for  the  various  departments,  the  task 
entrusted  to  her  being  the  '  Companion  to  the  Court 
of  Modern  Sculpture.'  Her  pamphlet  was  repub- 
ished  in  1854  by  Messrs.  Bradbury  and  Evans  in 
the  series  known  as  '  The  Crystal  Palace  Library.' 

Mrs.  Jameson's  interest  in  the  vast  undertaking 
had  been  profound  from  the  commencement ;  and 
from  the  following  letter,  written  to  Mr.  Longman 
in  August  1851,  from  Ealing,  it  is  evident  that  an 


268  ANNA  JAMESON. 

article  from  her  on  the  Crystal  Palace,  for  the 
'  Edinburgh  Review,'  had  been  discussed  between 
them :  '."•' 

DEAR  MR.  LONGMAN,— I  find  that  I  must  give  up  all 
thoughts  of  executing  the  literary  undertakings  which 
were  in  my  mind,  and  confine  myself  to  those  which  are 
on  my  conscience.  The  state  of  my  mother's  health  is  such 
that  I  never  feel  sure  of  my  proceedings,  except  in  so  far 
that  I  shall  not  leave  England  during  the  next  year  (except 
it  be  to  go  over  to  Paris  for  a  week),  and  that  I  shall  finish 
my  "book  of  '  Madonnas '  out  of  hand.  It  requires  all  the 
time,  thought,  and  labour  I  can  now  dispose  of. 

So  much  is  written,  and  well  written,  on  the  subject  of 
the  Great  Exhibition,  that  I  can  be  spared.  Many  con- 
siderations, suggested  by  what  I  have  seen  and  compared, 
lie  in  my  mind,  to  come  forth  some  day  or  other,  in  some 
form  or  other,  perhaps.  If  they  never  appear,  the  loss 
will  not  be  great  to  anyone.  The  tendencies  of  national 
character  as  displayed  in  national  art  will  of  course  find  a 
place,  and  the  condition  of  the  producers  and  workers  in 
each  country  would  make  the  subject  of  a  separate  article 
of  unspeakable  value.  In  conversation  I  find  this  last 
topic  growing  on  men's  minds.  I  wish  the  '  Edinburgh ' 
would  take  it  up.  The  canvas  is  ready  ;  we  only  want  the 
picture,  with  all  its  grouping,  colour,  light,  shade,  and  in- 
finite variety. 

In  the  month  of  November  Mrs.  Jameson  had 
received  proposals  from  a  bookseller  in  Belfast 
for  the  publication  of  a  new  edition  of  her  book  on 
Canada.  She  immediately  wrote  to  Mr.  Longman 
on  the  subject  of  these  proposals,  saying  that  if  he 


LATER  LIFE.  269 


(Mr.  Longman)  still  wished  to  have  the  '  Winter 
Studies  and  Summer  Rambles,'  she  would  hand  the 
work  over  to  him  for  the  price  offered  her  by  the 
Irish  publisher,  with  an  additional  sum  of  io/.  for 
alterations  and  corrections  and  seeing  through  the 
press.  '  I  intend/  she  adds,  '  to  omit  one-fourth  of 
the  matter,  and  to  make  some  changes  interesting 
at  the  present  time,  and  with  regard  to  present 
affairs  in  Canada.' 

Apparently  Mr.  Longman  agreed  at  once  to 
these  terms,  for  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  a  fortnight 
later  that  '  the  Canada  book  as  altered  and  curtailed 
will  require  a  new  title.  What  do  you  think  of 
"  Sketches  in  Canada  and  Rambles  among  the  Red 
Men,"  which  would  best  express  what  it  now  is  ? 
If  you  can  suggest  a  better  title,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
have  it.' l 

On  July  22,  1852,  Mrs.  Jameson  acknowledges 
the  receipt  of  a  first  copy  of  the  book,  and  writes  to 
Mr.  Longman  that  '  it  looks  very  nice.  I  hope  it 
will  have  some  success  for  your  sake ;  but  on  look- 
ing over  the  pages  it  seems  to  me  as  if  left  far  be- 
hind in  my  life.' 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1851,  Mrs.  Jameson 
had  written  to  Mr.  Noel  a  propos  of  the  subject 
that  was  becoming  more  and  more  interesting  to 

1  The  book,  forming  two  parts  of  '  The  Traveller's  Library,'  was 
published  May  1852,  under  the  title  here  given  by  Mrs.  Jameson. 


270  ANNA  JAMESON. 

her  mind  and  heart — the  education  of  the  masses, 
and  more  especially  the  amelioration  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  women  and  children  of  the  poorer  classes. 
This  letter  is  dated  December  21,  1852  : 

Now  as  for  news.  You  have  probably  heard  from  Lady 
Byron.  She  is  tolerably  well  ;  she  has  been  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  educational  conference  held  at  Birmingham 
on  the  subject  of  juvenile  statistics,  and  has  offered  a  prize 
of  2OO/.  for  the  best  essay  on  the  subject  of  juvenile  crime, 
and  legislation  to  meet  the  difficulties.  Ralph  l  being  ill, 
or  rather  just  recovering  from  scarlet  fever,  she  could  not 
go  down  herself  to  Birmingham.  I  went  down  with  Miss 
Murray,  Miss  Montgomery,  and  Mrs.  Rathbone,  to  hear 
what  the  lawyers  and  the  clergy  had  to  say.  It  was  very 
interesting ;  and  the  result  is  that  the  question  is  to  be 
agitated  in  every  possible  way  till  public  sympathy,  and 
public  opinion,  and  public  conscience  have  borne  down  all 
opposition.  The  object  is  to  make  parents  responsible  for 
their  children's  moral  education  ;  or,  in  default,  and  the 
child  becoming  amenable  to  legal  correction,  taking  away 
the  child  and  taxing  the  parents.  To  me  the  question  is 
of  more  interest,  and  to  England  of  more  importance,  than 
the  vile  French  politics.  I  am  filled  with  disgust ;  and 
you  will  see  that  the  whole  English  press  (with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  ultra-tory  papers)  has  declared  against 
the  President,  even  the  Times.  Their  first  writers  have 
been  worthily  employed  lately  in  showing  up  the  mon- 
strous perjury  and  heartlessness  and  utter  want  of  principle 
in  that  man.  He  may  succeed,  probably  will  succeed ; 
but  what  a  pis-aller !  what  a  people,  who  play  at  politics 
like  children,  and  act  dramas  for  the  edification  of  the 

1  Lady  Byron's  youngest  grandchild,  now  Lord  Wentworth. 


LATER  LIFE. 


271 


world  !  No  principle  round  which  to  rally,  no  man  to 
represent  worthily  any  party,  no  law,  no  press,  no  spirit, 
no  nothing  I  As  Mrs.  P.  said  the  other  day,  '  they  are 
such  a  set  of  wretches,  one  does  not  care  which  side  is 
licked,  so  that  they  get  it  all  round.'  There  is  a  party  of 
sympathisers  here  in  England  who  talk  of  Louis  Napoleon's 
'  manliness,  decision,  vigour,  cleverness,'  and  so  forth — this 
you  can  imagine — but  the  sense  of  the  nation  is  against 
him.  What  will  the  next  five  years  bring  forth  ? 

The  '  Legends  of  the  Madonna '  came  out  in 
1852  ;  it  was  a  work  that  cost  its  writer  far  more 
thought  and  anxiety  than  either  of  the  preceding 
volumes.  In  the  preface  she  says  : 

With  far  more  of  doubt  and  diffidence,  yet  not  less 
trust  in  the  benevolence  and  candour  of  my  critics,  do  I 
present  this  volume  to  the  public.  I  hope  it  will  be  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  the  general  plan  of  my  work  is 
merely  artistic,  that  it  really  aims  at  nothing  more  than  to 
render  the  various  subjects  intelligible. 

I  may  have  been  superficial  from  mere  abundance  of 
materials,  sometimes  mistaken  as  to  facts  and  dates  ;  the 
tastes,  the  feelings,  and  the  faith  of  my  readers  may  not 
always  go  along  with  me ;  but  if  attention  and  interest 
have  been  excited,  if  the  sphere  of  enjoyment  in  works  of 
art  have  been  enlarged  and  enlightened,  I  have  done  all  I 
ever  wished,  all  I  ever  hope  to  do. 

During  this  period  from  1851  to  1854,  Mrs. 
Jameson  lived  chiefly  in  Bruton  Street,  in  the  house 
of  her  sister  Camilla,  Mrs.  Sherwin,  now  the  only 
survivor  of  the  family.  Here  she  was  able  to  collect 


272  ANNA  JAMESON. 

her  friends  about  her,  and  saw  a  good  deal  of 
what  may  fairly  be  termed  brilliant  society  at  the 
simple  evening  parties  which  she  held  on  Wednes- 
day evenings,  much  after  the  fashion  of  the  Roman 
reunions, — in  which  the  circle  of  her  literary  friends 
was  diversified  by  a  little  admixture  from  the  great 
world,  and  by  the  occasional  appearance  of  strangers 
of  note,  Americans  and  foreigners.  For  some  time 
Lady  Byron  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  these 
evenings  with  her  friend  when  her  uncertain  health 
permitted,  always  an  interesting  figure  in  any 
society ;  and  the  quiet  drawing-room  became  the 
scene  of  many  a  lively  talk  and  animated  discussion, 
its  abiding  spirits,  art  and  literature,  being  sometimes 
set  aside  and  cast  into  the  background,  in  favour  of 
the  new  and  eager  voices  of  philanthropy  and  social 
progress,  which  found  so  quick  a  response  in  the 
heart  of  its  mistress.  Not  only  was  Lady  Byron, 
her  most  intimate  associate,  in  herself  a  centre  of 
benevolent  schemes  of  all  kinds,  but  the  younger 
members  of  the  little  society,  the  girls  who  looked 
up  with  passionate  admiration  to  these  two  chief 
figures,  were  full  of  a  thousand  projects  for  the 
amelioration  of  the  world  and  the  help  (specially) 
of  women,  a  subject  of  continued  and  enthusiastic 
discussion.  Throughout  her  whole  literary  life 
Mrs.  Jameson  had  so  entirely  woven  in  her  own 
personality  with  her  work,  that  it  requires  no  effort 


LATER  LIFE.  273 


to  trace  in  her  next  publication  the  influence  of 
this  society  and  of  the  gathering  of  old  friends 
and  new,  which  greeted  her  return  home  after  so 
many  absences.  Reflections  of  genial  leisure  after 
severe  work,  and  of  the  pleasant  conjunction  of 
minds  in  tune  :  echoes  of  conversations  full  of  flying 
gleams  of  thought,  airy  fancies,  and  musings  softly 
sad,  such  as  pass  with  graceful  fluency,  though 
perhaps  no  great  depth,  among  a  little  company 
of  cultivated  women  :  give  what  seems  to  me  a  very 
delicate  charm  to  the  volume  published  two  years 
later,  and  which  she  entitled  '  A  Commonplace 
Book  of  Thoughts,  Memories,  and  Fancies.'  It  is 
nothing,  yet  it  is  full  of  a  thousand  melodious 
suggestions,  undertones  of  sentiment  and  feeling, 
and  beautiful  fragments  of  thought.  The  papers 
from  which  it  was  composed  were,  according  to  her 
express  desiie,  burnt  after  her  death.  Her  own 
explanation  of  her  work  is  so  completely  in  keeping 
with  the  description  of  it  which  I  have  ventured  to 
give,  that  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  it  here : 

I  must  be  allowed  to  say  a  few  words  in  explanation 
of  the  contents  of  this  little  volume,  which  is  truly  what  its 
name  sets  forth — a  book  of  commonplaces,  and  nothing 
more.  If  I  have  never,  in  any  work  I  have  ventured  to 
place  before  the  public,  aspired  to  teach  (being  myself  a 
learner  in  all  things),  at  least  I  have  hitherto  done  my  best 
to  deserve  the  indulgence  I  have  met  with,  and  it  would 

T 


274  ANNA  JAMESON. 

pain  me  if  it  could  be  supposed  that  such  indulgence  had 
rendered  me  presumptuous  or  careless. 

For  many  years  I  have  been  accustomed  to  make  a 
memorandum  of  any  thought  which  might  come  across  me 
(if  pen  and  paper  were  at  hand),  and  to  mark  (and  remark) 
any  passage  in  a  book  which  excited  either  a  sympathetic 
or  an  antagonistic  feeling.  This  collection  of  notes  ac- 
cumulated insensibly  from  day  to  day.  The  volumes  on 
'  Shakespeare's  Women,'  on  '  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,' 
and  various  other  productions,.sprang  from  seed  thus  lightly 
and  casually  sown,  which,  I  hardly  know  how,  grew  up  and 
expanded  into  a  regular  readable  form,  with  a  beginning,  a 
middle,  and  an  end.  But  what  was  to  be  done  with  the 
fragments  which  remained — without  beginning  and  without 
end — links  of  a  hidden  or  a  broken  chain  ?  Whether  to 
preserve  them  or  destroy  them  became  a  question,  and  one 
I  could  not  answer  for  myself.  In  allowing  a  portion  of 
them  to  go  forth  to  the  world  in  their  original  form  as 
unconnected  fragments,  I  have  been  guided  by  the  wishes 
of  others,  who  deemed  it  not  wholly  uninteresting  or  pro- 
fitless to  trace  the  path,  sometimes  devious  enough,  of  an 
'  inquiring  spirit,'  even  by  the  little  pebbles  dropped  as 
vestiges  by  the  wayside. 

A  book  so  supremely  egotistical  and  subjective  can  do 
good  only  in  one  way.  It  may,  like  conversation  with  a 
friend,  open  up  sources  of  sympathy  and  reflection  ;  excite 
no  argument,  agreement,  or  disagreement ;  and,  like  every 
spontaneous  utterance  of  thought  out  of  an  earnest  mind, 
suggest  far  higher  and  better  thoughts  than  any  to  be 
found  here,  to  higher  and  more  productive  minds.  If  I 
had  not  the  humble  hope  of  such  a  possible  result,  instead 
of  sending  these  memoranda  to  the  printer,  I  should  have 
thrown  them  into  the  fire  ;  for  I  lack  that  creative  faculty 


LATER  LIFE.  275 


which  can  work  up  the  teachings  of  heart-sorrow  and 
world-experience  into  attractive  forms  of  fiction  or  art. 

The  passages  from  books  are  not,  strictly  speaking, 
selected ;  they  are  not  given  here  on  any  principle  of  choice, 
but  simply  because  by  some  process  of  assimilation  they 
became  a  part  of  the  individual  mind.  They  '  found  me,' 
to  borrow  Coleridge's  expression,  '  found  me  in  some  depth 
of  my  being  ; '  I  did  not  '  find  tliem! 

For  the  rest,  all  those  passages  which  are  marked  by 
inverted  commas  must  be  regarded  as  borrowed,  though  I 
have  not  always  been  able  to  give  my  authority.  All 
passages  not  so  marked  are,  I  dare  not  say,  original  or  new, 
but  at  least  the  unstudied  expression  of  a  free  discursive 
mind — fruits,  not  advisedly  plucked,  but  which  the  vari- 
able winds  have  shaken  from  the  tree ;  some  ripe,  some 
'  harsh  and  crude.' 

I  may  make  the  last  paragraph  a  little  more 
clear  by  explaining  that  the '  passages  marked  by 
inverted  commas,'  which  are  given  throughout 
Part  I.  of  the  volume — that  on  '  Ethics  and  Character' 
— among  Mrs.  Jameson's  own  thoughts,  were  sen- 
timents expressed  at  one  period  or  another  by  the 
two  most  intimate  friends  of  her  life  (than  whom  no 
mortals  ever  were  more  utterly  dissimilar),  Ottilie  v. 
Goethe  and  Lady  Byron  ;  and  the  paper  entitled 
1  A  Revelation  of  Childhood  '  was  taken  from  '  a 
letter  to  a  friend,'  almost  certainly  Miss  Martineau, 
with  whom  she  had  had  an  interchange  of  letters 
referring  to  this  interesting  subject,  Miss  Martineau 
having  communicated  in  turn  to  Mrs.  Jameson  a 


276  ANNA  JAMESON. 


detailed  history  of  her  own  early  recollections  in  a 
very  similar  form  to  that  which  has  been  published 
in  her  autobiography.  An  allegory  by  Ottilie  v. 
Goethe,  and  some  '  poetical  fragments  '  of  her  own, 
belong  to  this  first  part.  Part  II.  is  on  literature 
and  art,  and  among  her  criticisms  on  books  is 
one  written  the  year  of  its  publication  on  Thacke- 
ray's '  English  Humourists,'  a  criticism  that  many 
will  sympathise  with  heartily.  The  book  came  out 
in  1854;  the  illustrations  and  etchings,  graceful  and 
full  of  delicate  feeling,  were  like  the  more  important 
portions  of  her  book,  all  executed  by  herself. 

I  have  omitted,  I  find,  to  mention  that  mean- 
time, in  the  '  Edinburgh  Review'  for  October  1853, 
had  appeared  a  notice  of  Haydon's  career  and 
works,  to  which  reference  was  recently  made  in  the 
same  '  Review'  (July  1876)  in  an  article  upon  the 
'  Correspondence  and  Table-talk  of  Benjamin  Hay- 
don,  with  a  Memoir  by  his  Son ' — reference  so 
graceful  and  so  gratifying  to  Mrs.  Jameson's  sur- 
viving friends  that  I  make  bold  to  quote  it  here  : 

About  three-and-twenty  years  ago  Mr.  Tom  Taylor 
gave  to  the  world  an  excellent  and  judicious  life  of  Ben- 
jamin Haydon,  in  which  he  said,  with  great  feeling  and  a 
proper  degree  of  reticence,  all  that  could  or  need  be  said 
of  that  most  unfortunate  of  artists  and  of  men.  The  bio- 
graphy was  reviewed  at  the  time  in  these  pages  by  one 
who  combined  with  a  feminine  delicacy  of  appreciation  for 
the  artist  a  vigour  of  style  and  power  of  criticism  which 


LATER  LIFE.  277 


has  not  often  been  surpassed  in  writing  on  the  fine  arts. 
At  this  distance  of  time  we  may  so  far  depart  from  our 
almost  invariable  practice  and  name  the  authoress  of  that 
paper — our  accomplished  and  lamented  friend,  the  late 
Mrs.  Jameson.  Should  the  present  publication  revive,  as 
it  can  scarcely  fail  to  do,  the  interest  of  a  younger  genera- 
tion in  the  tragic  tale  of  Haydon's  sufferings  and  death, 
they  may  be  found  related  with  consummate  delicacy  and 
judgment  in  the  article  to  which  we  now  refer,  and  those 
who  care  to  look  back  through  so  long  a  series  of  our 
'  Review '  will  not,  we  think,  be  unrewarded.  For  our- 
selves, as  far  as  the  incidents  of  Haydon's  life  are  con- 
cerned, we  have  nothing  more  to  say.  Our  opinion  of  him 
is  unchanged,  and  we  do  not  presume  to  think  that  it 
could  be  more  ably  and  gracefully  expressed.  We  could 
have  wished  that  the  story  had  been  left  as  it  was  told 
three-and-twenty  years  ago. 

Allusion  is  made  to  both  these  publications  in 
the  following  letter  addressed  to  Miss  Sedgwick  : — 

London,  November  14,  1853, 

MY  DEAREST  CATHERINE, — This  day,  three  hours 
ago,  I  received  your  letter,  dated  October  29.  Let  no  one 
deny  or  doubt  that  there  are  inward  inexplicable  pre- 
sentiments and  mysterious  sympathies  linking  us  with  the 
absent.  During  the  last  fortnight,  without  any  particular 
cause  or  reason,  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  more  than 
usual,  almost  constantly.  I  mean  that  no  day  passed 
without  bringing  you  to  my  mind.  A  few  days  ago,  I  sat 
talking  of  you  with  Mr.  Kenyon.  I  had  intended  to  have 
sent  you  a  little  packet  by  your  nephew,  who  made  a  most 
agreeable  impression  on  me,  and  who  wrote  me  a  few  lines 
afterwards,  which  I  keep  ;  they  were  so  youthfully  cordial. 


278  ANNA  JAMESON. 

They  seemed  to  breathe  of  you.  I  felt  you  must  have 
spoken  kindly  of  me.  I  sent  you  nothing,  however,  for 
soon  after  I  was  painfully  absorbed.  My  mother,  about 
whom  you  enquire  so  kindly,  has  been  and  is  very  ill. 
They  say  it  is  the  decline  of  age,  the  sinking  of  all  the 
powers  ;  hopeless,  therefore,  in  respect  to  the  present,  and 
all  that  is  left  is  to  render  the  remaining  weeks  or  months 
as  happy,  as  free  from  suffering  as  possible.  She  keeps 
her  bed,  with  no  intermission  of  even  transient  strength  ; 
but  is  cheerful,  gentle,  and  resigned.  Three  of  my  sisters 
are  in  constant  attendance  on  her,  and  I  am  with  her  for 
some  hours  of  every  day.  This  is  our  present  position — 
very  like  what  it  was  with  our  poor  father,  ten  years  ago, 
when  you  were  in  England.  And  now  for  the  rest  of  your 
questions,  so  kindly,  so  frankly  expressed.  Of  my  pro- 
sperity I  cannot  say  much.  My  books  have  gained  me 
some  reputation  perhaps,  and,  what  is  better,  have  given 
pleasure  to  such  minds  as  yours.  The  profit  is  so  small 
that  it  is  not  worth  mentioning.  The  produce  of  the 
'  Madonna '  (of  which  1,030  copies  sold  this  year)  is  49/., 
which  I  shall  receive  at  Christmas — very  encouraging,  is  it 
not  ?  But  I  go  on  with  my  allowance,  and  my  little  pen- 
sion, and  scribble,  scribble,  for  love,  if  not  for  money.  The 
review  of  Haydon's  life  in  the  '  Edinburgh  Review,'  though 
written  in  much  trouble,  has  turned  out  successful  ;  but  I 
do  not  publicly  acknowledge  it,  because  I  do  not  generally 
like  writing  in  reviews.  I  have  a  book  going  to  press, 
which  I  believe  I  shall  call  '  Thoughts,  Memories,  and 
Fancies,'  a  number  of  commonplaces  which  have  accumu- 
lated in  MS. ;  and  as  everybody  says  I  had  better  publish 
them,  I  have  at  last  put  them  together,  and,  while  attend- 
ing on  my  mother,  the  compilation,  printing,  and  illus- 
'trating  furnish  me  with  what  the  French  call  a  distraction. 
As  to  what  you  say  of  my  cheerfulness  and  sound  mind, 


LATER  LIFE.  279 


dearest  Catherine,  let  it  pass.  God  is  good  to  us,  and 
enables  us  to  bear  much ;  but  the  last  year  has  made  my 
heart  grey  and  wrinkled,  though  it  may  have  spared  my 
face.  There !  now  I  have  told  you  all  that  in  a  letter  I 
can  tell  you  of  myself.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  And  now  let 
me  thank  you  for  all  you  tell  me  of  yourself,  your  dear 
people,  your  brother,  your  Kate,  your  home,  your  rooms, 
your  garden,  your  roses — all.  There  came  over  me,  as  I 
read,  a  wish  to  cross  again  that  terrible  Atlantic,  such  as 
I  have  not  felt  before  for  years.  As  to  the  Francesca,  my 
interpretation,  when  I  saw  the  original  picture  in  Ary 
Scheffer's  room,  was  different  ;  the  hell  to  her  was  his 
averted  face  ;  the  hell  to  him,  remorse  surviving  love.  In 
this  sense  there  is  an  infinitude  of  significance  and  pathos  in 
her  exclamation,  '  Come  vedi,  ancor  non  m'  abbandona  ! '  but 
I  don't  know  that  I  am  right.  Yesterday  I  had  luncheon 
in  company  with  Mrs.  Follen  and  Harriet  Martineau.  Mrs. 
Follen  looking  well,  and  Harriet  fat  and  portly,  and  hand- 
somer than  I  ever  saw  her — less  plain,  perhaps,  were  the 
more  proper  word.  But  she  looks  so  full  of  radiant  and 
assured  self-complacency  that  I  gazed  with  admiring  asto- 
nishment. Gifted,  dauntless  woman,  who  has  doubt  about 
nothing,  and,  as  people  say,  belief  in  nothing ;  but  that  I 
don't  believe.  Her  translation  of  Comte's  philosophy  is  to 
appear  to-morrow. 

Now,  dear  Catherine,  I  hope  your  letter  is  an  earnest 
that  I  shall  hear  again  from  you,  and  without  such  long 
dreary  intervals  of  silence.  I  have  been  reading,  that  is 
turning  the  leaves  of  Miss  Bremer's  book,  and  dwelling  on 
your  name.  Of  the  book  itself,  there  is  too  much  of  it, 
and  a  barrenness  of  thought,  though  much  good-nature  and 
talent.  My  love  to  all  your  friends  who  remember  me. 

Your  affectionate 

ANNA. 


28o  ANNA  JAMESON. 

To  return  to  the  book  of  '  Thoughts,  Memories, 
and  Fancies,'  there  is  a  certain  fitness  in  the  place 
occupied  by  it  in  this  life-history,  in  its  tacit  testi- 
mony to  the  dear  friendship  and  mutual  intercourse 
preceding  the  melancholy  and  deplorable  incident 
which  broke  one  of  the  chief  ties  of  Mrs.  Jameson's 
later  life,  and  which  had  occurred  some  time  before  its 
publication.  I  cannot  exactly  tell  at  what  date  the 
breach  between  my  aunt  and  Lady  Byron  took  place, 
which  made  so  great  a  difference  in  the  life  of  one  at 
least  of  these  devoted  friends.  The  fact,  which  could 
not  remain  hidden,  was  at  the  time  explained  to  no 
one — nor  indeed  at  any  time,  by  my  aunt,  except  to 
her  younger  sister  Charlotte,  who  after  a  long  in- 
terval confided  it  to  the  only  sister  now  surviving, 
from  whom,  since  this  memoir  was  begun,  I  have 
learned  the  cause  of  a  severance  which  had  been 
a  wonder  and  a  mystery  to  me  for  years.  The 
apparent  inadequateness  of  the  motive  that  produced 
such  unfortunate  results  is  bewildering,  yet  true 
enough  to  the  unreasonableness  of  life,  in  which  we 
continually  find  a  simple  misapprehension  to  lie  at 
the  root  of  the  most  serious  ruptures.  It  is  not  a 
question  into  which  it  is  necessary  to  enter  in  much 
detail,  but  I  believe  the  facts  of  the  case  were  simply 
these :  Mrs.  Jameson  had  become,  partially  by 
accident,  acquainted  with  some  private  particulars 
affecting  a  member  of  Lady  Byron's  family,  which 


LATER  LIFE.  281 


had  not  been  revealed  to  Lady  Byron  herself. 
When  these  facts  were  finally  made  known  at  the 
death  of  the  person  chiefly  concerned,  Lady  Byron 
became  aware  at  the  same  time  of  Mrs.  Jameson's 
previous  acquaintance  with  them.  We  may  easily 
imagine  that  the  sting  of  finding  her  friend  the 
actual  depositary  of  a  secret  which  .had  been  kept 
from  herself,  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  first 
bitterness  of  Lady  Byron's  resentment.  It  is  even 
possible,  I  do  not  know,  that  my  aunt,  conscious  of 
no  breach  of  loyalty  or  faithfulness  towards  her 
friend,  may  have  been  too  proud  to  enter  into  minute 
explanations  of  how  and  why  it  was.  Anyhow,  the 
stern  temper  of  the  one  was  roused,  and  the  sensi- 
tive pride  and  high  spirit  of  the  other  outraged  and 
wounded.  She  in  her  turn  became  the  one  '  im- 
placable.' I  cannot  tell  exactly  when  the  incident 
occurred ;  but  whilst,  from  all  I  can  gather,  the 
mutual  suffering  was,  for  a  time  at  least,  not 
made  evident  to  others,  I  have  too  good  reason  to 
know  that  the  wound  was  one  from  which  Mrs. 
Jameson  never  recovered.  Perhaps  the  one  other 
person  to  whom  (while  silent  as  to  the  cause)  she 
expressed  herself  freely  on  this  painful  subject,  was 
the  kind  and  trusted  friend  to  whom  already  so 
many  references  have  been  made,  and  from  whom 
I  have  obtained  so  much  information — Major  Noel. 
He  had  been  absent  for  some  time  in  Ireland,  but 


282  ANNA  JAMESON. 

on  his  return  he  naturally  resumed  his  old  habits 
and  went  to  see  his  friend ;  she  received  him 
'  with  much  emotion.'  Major  Noel  writes  :  '  She 
said  that  our  intimacy  must  cease,  because  my 
first  duty  was  to  keep  on  terms  of  friendship 
with  Lady  Byron/  Afterwards,  lest  this  request 
should  be  insufficient,  she  wrote  to  the  same 
effect,  and  almost  the  same  words,  '  entreating 
me/  Major  Noel  adds,  '  never  to  come  near  her 
again,  for  my  first  duty  was  towards  Lady  Byron, 
who  had  broken  her  heart!  These  impassioned 
words  show  how  deep  the  pain  had  been.  Thus 
she  lost  not  only  the  imperious  second  self  who 
had  occupied  so  large  a  share  of  her  inmost  soul  for 
years  past,  but  from  a  generous  reluctance  to  embar- 
rass their  personal  relations  with  one  more  able  to 
be  of  use  to  them  than  herself,  she  renounced  the 
consolation  she  might  have  found  in  the  continuance 
of  her  heretofore  uninterrupted  intercourse  with  still 
older  and  more  faithful  friends.  Mrs.  Noel  some 
years  later  made  one  effort  to  break  through  the 
prohibition,  and  wrote  an  affectionate  note  full  of 
their  desire  to  hear  from  her,  informing  her  '  dearest 
Anna '  of  the  disembodiment  of  the  militia  regiment 
in  which  Major  Noel  served,  and  the  changes  conse- 
quent upon  it ;  but  no  answer  was  ever  received,  and 
when  her  letters  were  returned  to  her  at  Mrs. 
Jameson's  death,  this  was  found  as  it  was  sent,  the 


LATER   LIFE.  283 


seal  unbroken  :  the  memories  of  that  time  of  trouble 
were  still  felt  too  bitter  to  be  voluntarily  recalled. 
Mrs.  Noel  has  endorsed  the  faded  note,  which  is 
dated  Mays,  I^58,  with  the  words,  'This  seal  I 
opened  myself,  September  19,  1877.'  The  friends, 
however,  I  am  glad  to  say,  did  meet  at  least  once 
again.  When,  in  1859,  Mrs.  Noel  was  ill  in  London, 
Mrs.  Jameson,  hearing  of  it,  could  not  resist  the 
longing  of  the  old  affection,  and  went  to  see  her ; 
but  the  broken  intercourse  was  never  resumed. 

This  year  of  1854  was  one  of  sorrows.  The  gentle 
mother,  to  whom  Mrs.  Jameson  and  her  sisters  were 
so  fondly  attached,  died  in  the  midst  of  her  children, 
after  a  year  of  lingering  illness,  in  the  early  spring  ; 
and  in  the  autumn  another  event  occurred,  which, 
though  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  it  could 
come  upon  her  as  a  heavy  grief,  was  yet  no  doubt 
a  shock  to  her,  and  at  first  appeared  likely  to  com- 
promise the  comfort  of  her  future  life  :  this  was  the 
death  of  Mr.  Jameson  in  Canada.  Some  time  pre- 
viously he  had  persuaded  his  wife  to  give  up  to  him 
the  legal  papers  that  secured  to  her  her  allowance  of 
3OO/.  a  year,  for  the  purpose,  it  was  explained  to 
her,  of  enabling  him  to  invest  in  certain  land  to  be 
secured  to  her  after  his  death,  and  which  would  prove 
such  renunciation  on  her  part  to  result  in  gain  to 
her  rather  than  loss.  When,  however,  his  will  was 
examined,  it  was  found  that  no  provision  whatever 


284  ANNA  JAMESON. 

had  been  made  for  her,  and  she  was  thus  suddenly 
deprived  of  her  income.  The  whole  property  was 
left  away  from  her,  and  from  the  members  of  Mr. 
Jameson's  own  family. 

Mrs.  Jameson  was  advised  by  some  persons  to 
dispute  the  will ;  but  she  accepted  the  counsels  of  her 
valued  old  friend  Bryan  Procter,  who  wrote  to  her 
that,  unless  there  was  clear  ground  for  her  to 
stand  upon,  it  would  be  unwise  to  plunge  into  law. 
He  thought,  moreover,  that  an  assertion  by  some 
friend  of  her  moral  right  to  a  share  of  Mr.  Jameson's 
property  might  induce  the  legatee  to  yield  some 
part. 

When  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Jameson's  income  from 
Canada  had  thus  stopped  for  ever  became  known,  a 
certain  number  of  her  friends,  Mrs.  Procter  being 
the  prime  mover  of  the  whole  plan,  collected  among 
themselves  a  sum  wherewith  an  annuity  of  ioo/.  was 
insured  to  Mrs.  Jameson  for  her  lifetime. 

I  wish  I  could  repeat  with  the  same  graceful  and 
warm-hearted  vivacity  with  which  it  was  told  to  me 
the  story  of  the  meeting  between  the  two  friends  at 
which  this  entirely  unsuspected  effort  of  loving  kind- 
ness was  made  known  to  the  object  of  it.  Mrs.  Proc- 
ter, who  had  not  shrunk  either  from  the  trouble  or 
the  responsibility,  faltered  when  the  moment  came,  in 
natural  delicacy  and  generous  alarm,  lest  the  gift  thus 
offered  should  wound  any  susceptibility,  or  mortify  the 


LATER  LIFE.  285 


pride  of  independence  in  her  friend's  high  spirit.  It 
is  needless,  however,  to  add  that  Mrs.  Jameson  was 
entirely  destitute  of  the  petty  self-esteem  which  could 
be  wounded  by  so  noble  and  generous  a  gift,  made 
infinitely  sweeter  by  the  very  tremor  of  doubt  and 
panic  with  which  the  announcement  was  made.  For 
the  first  moment  neither  could  tell  what  the  other 
said,  except  that  the  news  was  conveyed  and  re- 
ceived with  mutual  emotion  and  sympathy  ;  and  this 
alarming  climax  of  a  long  labour  of  kindness  ended 
in  the  tears  and  the  kiss  of  tender  friendship  and 
gratitude  which  happily  made  words  unnecessary. 
After  they  had  parted,  Mrs.  Procter  received  the 
following  note,  which  she  kindly  permits  me  to  copy 
here. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — After  you  were  gone  to-day,  I  could 
not  help  giving  way  to  many  feelings.  I  am  glad  neither 
you  nor  any  one  could  see  me.  And  I  am  better,  and  my 
mind  clearer.  How  kind  my  friends  have  been — how 
good,  how  true  !  And  what  a  soft,  delightful  feeling  grati- 
tude is !  All  this  time,  while  I  have  been  tormenting 
myself  with  perplexity  and  anxiety,  God  and  you  have 
been  caring  for  me.  Dear  friend,  how  I  love  you,  not 
only  for  what  you  have  done,  but  for  the  consummate 
judgment  and  delicacy  with  which  you  have  done  it !  I 
am  now  taken  out  of  that  slavery  to  booksellers  and  book- 
makers which  I  so  hated  and  feared,  and  my  sisters  are 
safe.  I  had  arranged  their  existence  for  this  next  year, 
but  what  was  to  become  of  them  afterwards  I  could  not 


286  ANNA  JAMESON. 

tell.  Now  there  is  enough  for  all.  And  when  I  think  I 
owe  it  to  you,  it  does  certainly  add  to  the  happy  feeling  in 
my  mind.  So  I  say  no  more  ;  indeed,  why  should  I  ? 
You  must  say  to  my  other  friends  what  you  know  is  in  my 
heart. 

Yours  affectionately, 

ANNA  JAMESON. 

Mrs.  Procter  adds  that  after  the  annuity  had  been 
bought,  a  sum  of  about  yo/.  remained  over,  which 
was  put  into  a  pretty  purse  and  presented  to  Mrs. 
Jameson,  who  protested,  with  tears  and  laughter, 
that  this  was  the  part  of  her  friends'  liberality  which 
she  enjoyed  most  thoroughly. 

While,  however,  accepting  in  the  spirit  in  which  it 
was  given  the  thoughtful  provision  thus  made  for  her, 
Mrs.  Jameson  regarded  in  a  different  light  another 
offer  which  was  made  to  her  soon  after.  In  the 
month  of  May  following,  a  friend,  desirous  of  remain- 
ing unknown,  offered  to  place  at  Mrs.  Jameson's 
bankers'  the  sum  of  5<D/.  a  year  to  her  credit,  to 
be  drawn  in  half-yearly  payments.  This  generous 
proposal,  though  it  came  through  the  same  kind 
hands,  Mrs.  Jameson  declined,  with  the  most  grateful 
acknowledgment,  however,  of  the  intention  of  the 
giver.  Her  letter  on  the  subject  is  so  charac- 
teristic of  her  clear  sense  of  what  could  and  what 
could  not  be  accepted  by  her  in  the  shape  of  friendly 
aid,  that  I  quote  from  the  rough  draft  in  her  own 


LATER  LIFE.  287 


handwriting  the  letter  sent  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Procter's 
note  : 

May  25,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, —  How  could  I  be  otherwise  than 
both  surprised  and  pleased  by  your  communication  ?  What  ' 
good  people  there  are  in  the  world,  what  generous  noble 
hearts  !  I  am  grateful  for  the  proffered  kindness,  but,  dear 
friend,  I  cannot,  for  I  think — I  am  sure — I  ought  not  to 
accept  it.  I  accepted  the  annuity,  not  only  without  scruple, 
but  with  unmixed  pleasure.  In  the  first  place  it  had 
emanated  from  you,  my  old  friend,  and  then  so  many  had 
joined,  spontaneously,  zealously — so  many  \  I  must  have 
been  hardened  in  pride  and  misanthropy  if  I  had  not  been 
touched  with  the  softest  gratitude,  and  even  with  a  sort  of 
sympathy  for  the  sympathy  shown  to  me.  But  don't  you 
see,  dear,  that  this  of  which  you  tell  me  is  quite  another 
thing  ?  This  generous  being,  whoever  she  may  be,  has 
cither  a  turn  for  benevolence  (and  then  how  many  there 
are  who  more  deserve  her  benevolence  than  I  do),  or  she 
has  an  especial  kindness  for  me  personally  ;  and  kindness 
in  this  particular  form  I  no  longer  need.  To  be  reduced 
to  sordid  want  I  did  not  deserve,  perhaps ;  well,  have  I 
not  been  lifted  in  the  arms  of  generous  friends  above 
want  and  the  fear  of  it  ?  Do  I  deserve,  have  I  any  even  the 
least  right  to  more  ?  Certainly  not.  I  am  provided  with  a 
reserve  for  this  journey  which  is  to  set  me  up  in  health. 
With  my  pension  and  annuity  I  ought  to  supply  my  little 
home  with  all  the  necessaries  of  life.  I  cannot,  I  will  not, 
owe  superfluities  to  a  yearly  allowance  out  of  the  fortune 
of  another.  If  this  5O/.  a  year  were  a  gift  from  the  Queen, 
I  would  accept  with  a  dutiful  courtesy  what  was  tendered 
as  a  royal  grace  ;  but  from  no  other  being  in  the  world  will 
I  accept  of  it.  Say,  therefore,  that,  with  every  feeling  of 


288  ANNA  JAMESON. 

gratitude  and  respect  to  my  unknown  friend,  I  decline 
the  offer.  I  cannot  be  mistaken  either  in  the  impulse  or 
the  principle  which  prompts  me  to  do  so,  for  what  I  felt 
yesterday  I  think  to-day  after  sleeping  upon  it. 

The  anxiety  and  grief  connected  with  the  loss  of 
her  beloved  mother,  and  the  painful  circumstances 
attending  the  disclosure  of  her  pecuniary  position  at 
the  death  of  her  husband,  all  had  told  upon  Mrs. 
Jameson's  health,  already  considerably  undermined. 
Her  desire  was  to  return  to  Italy,  the  land  of  her 
affections,  and  her  medical  advisers  strongly  coun- 
selled her  to  seek  there  the  rest  and  change  that 
she  needed.  This  visit,  however,  was  not  achieved 
till  1856.  In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Jameson  had  made 
a  step  into  what  may  be  called  public  life.  She  had 
been  persuaded  to  put  her  thoughts  upon  the  public 
ministrations  of  charity,  and  the  office  which  women 
might  fitly  fill  in  this  way,  into  the  form  of  lectures. 
The  first  of  these,  '  On  Sisters  of  Charity  Abroad 
and  at  Home,'  was  delivered  in  the  month  of 
February  1855  '  privately'  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Reid  in  York  Terrace.  It  was  afterwards  printed 
'  by  desire,'  and  the  interest  it  excited  was  sufficient 
to  demand  a  second  edition  within  three  months. 
The  first  lecture  was  experimental,  and  met  with 
such  success,  that,  had  Mrs.  Jameson's  health  per- 
mitted the  necessary  exertion,  she  might  have  been 
encouraged  to  give  her  mind  to  this  branch  of  public 


LATER  LIFE.  289 


education.  But  the  effort  was  too  great,  and  the 
lectures  were  neither  of  them  ever  attempted  before 
a  larger  and  mixed  audience.  In  her  preface  to 
the  second  edition,  Mrs.  Jameson  dwells  on  the 
1  general  expression  of  responsive  sympathy,  public 
and  private,'  being  such  that  '  the  hand  laid  thus 
timidly  and  unskilfully  upon  the  chords  almost 
"  recoils  from  the  sound  itself  hath  made." ' 

Not  less  (she  writes)  have  I  been  touched  with  pleasure 
and  surprise  by  the  numerous  communications  which 
almost  every  post  has  brought  to  me  from  medical  men, 
from  clergymen,  from  intelligent  women,  the  greater  number 
strangers  to  me  personally,  either  expressive  of  cordial 
sympathy,  or  conveying  practical  suggestions,  or  offering 
aid  and  co-operation.  All,  however  various  the  contents, 
testifying  to  the  great  truths  I  have  endeavoured  to  illus- 
trate in  these  pages  ;  namely,  that  there  exists  at  the  core 
of  our  social  condition  a  great  mistake  to  be  corrected,  and 
a  great  want  supplied  ;  that  men  and  women  must  learn 
to  understand  each  other,  and  work  together  for  the 
common  good,  before  any  amount  of  permanent  moral 
and  religious  progress  can  be  effected  ;  and  that,  in  the 
most  comprehensive  sense  of  the  word,  we  need  SISTERS 
OF  CHARITY  everywhere. 

In  conclusion  she  says  that  considerations  of 
health  take  her  away  from  England  for  the  present, 
but  that  on  her  return  she  hopes  to  find  kindly  and 
active  spirits  and  wise  heads  doing  the  practical 
work  she  cannot  do  herself. 

u 


2 90  ANNA  JAMESON. 

It  has  been  said  (she  adds)  that  we  need  some  protest 
against  the  tendency  of  this  age  to  deify  mere  material 
power,  mere  mechanism,  mere  intellect,  and  what  is  called 
the  '  philosophy  of  the  positif?  It  appears  to  me  that 
God's  good  providence  is  preparing  such  a  counterpoise  in 
the  more  equal  and  natural  apportioning  of  the  work  that 
is  to  be  done  on  earth ;  in  the  due  mingling  of  the  softer 
charities  and  purer  moral  discipline  of  the  home  life  with 
all  the  material  interests  of  social  and  political  life ;  in  the 
better  training  of  the  affectionate  instincts  of  the  woman's 
nature,  and  the  application  of  these  to  purposes  and  ob- 
jects which  have  hitherto  been  considered  out  of  their 
province  or  beyond  their  reach  ;  for  what  can  concern  the 
community  at  large  which  does  not  concern  women  also  ? 

Mrs.  Jameson's  chief  argument  was  the  advisa- 
bility, or  rather  the  absolute  necessity,  existing  for 
the  thorough  co-operation  of  both  sexes  in  all  that 
relates  to  social  improvement,  whether  in  works  of 
mercy,  of  education,  or  of  reformation.  The  second 
lecture,  in  which  she  followed  up  and  completed  the 
argument  of  the  first,  and  which  was  entitled  the 
'  Communion  of  Labour,'  was  not  delivered  until  the 
summer  of  1856,  and  in  the  meantime  Mrs.  Jameson 
had  accomplished  her  intended  visit  to  the  Continent, 
devoting  her  chief  attention  to  an  entirely  different 
class  of  subjects  from  those  which  had  hitherto  been 
her  chief  delight  and  occupation.  It  is  significant  of 
her  temporarily  altered  purpose,  that  she  scarcely  set 
foot  in  Italy,  the  goal  of  her  desires,  the  beloved 
home  of  art,  at  all,  penetrating  only  as  far  as  Pied- 


LATER  LIFE.  291 


mont ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  she  lingered  long  in 
Paris,  with  which  she  had  formerly  declared  herself 
so  entirely  out  of  harmony,  and  spent  all  the  time 
she  had  to  spare  from  the  claims  of  her  friends, 
both  here  and  in  Germany,  in  visiting  every  hos- 
pital and  charitable  institution  to  which  she  could 
get  admission.  These  researches  were  very  different 
from  the  calm  studies  once  carried  on  in  churches 
and  picture-galleries  ;  but  she  took  the  same  con- 
scientious judgment  and  spirit  of  careful  examina- 
tion with  her,  whatever  her  object  might  be.  In 
June  1856,  having  returned  home,  she  gave  her 
second  address  on  these  topics.  When  this  was 
published,  she  explained  in  a  preface  that  it  was 
intended  to  be  '  merely  supplementary  to  the  "  Lec- 
ture on  Sisters  of  Charity ''  published  last  year ;  as 
an  illustration  and  expansion,  through  facts  and 
examples,  of  the  principles  there  briefly  set  forth, 
namely,  that  a  more  equal  distribution  of  the  work 
which  has  to  be  done,  and  a  more  perfect  communion 
of  interests  in  the  work  which  is  done,  are,  in  the 
present  state  of  society,  imperatively  demanded.' 

This  lecture  contains  details  of  her  manifold 
experiences  in  Paris,  Vienna,  Turin,  and  Milan,  and 
enters  into  comparisons,  carefully  and  most  con- 
scientiously drawn  up,  between  such  establishments 
at  home  and  abroad,  between  pauper  nurses  and 
sisters  of  charity,  Catholic  and  Protestant.  The 

U    2 


292  ANNA  JAMESON. 


necessity  of  good  training  and  regular  discipline,  of 
co-operation  and  brave  resistance  to  prejudice  and 
conventionality,  is  dwelt  upon  with  that  sincere 
earnestness  and  hopeful  spirit  which  had  distin- 
guished her  from  her  earliest  years.  An  excellent 
sketch  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  habitual  attitude  in  respect 
to  questions  of  this  kind  will  be  found  in  the  last 
pages  of  the  volume  of  '  Vignettes '  published  in 
1866  by  Bessie  Raynor  Parkes,  in  which  there  is  a 
short  sketch  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  career,  touched  in 
by  a  true  and  tender  hand,  and  bearing  testimony 
to  the  good  service  she  did  for  the  improvement  of 
the  social  position  of  women.  The  writer  was  one 
of  the  younger  members  of  the  circle  already  re- 
ferred to,  which  had  gathered  round  my  aunt  in 
Bruton  Street,  bringing  the  fervent  enthusiasm  of 
philanthropical  reformers  into  her  calmer  atmosphere 
of  art. 

Mrs.  Jameson  did  not  compromise  herself  by  adherence 
to  the  views  of  any  particular  party ;  her  age,  her  high 
social  reputation,  her  peculiarly  balanced  mind,  kept  her, 
as  it  were,  aloof,  and  in  a  sphere  apart ;  yet  she  was  ever 
the  first  to  come  forward  in  support  of  any  measure  she 
individually  approved.  When  an  effort  was  made  some 
years  ago  to  pass  a  Bill  through  Parliament  securing  to 
married  women  the  use  of  their  own  earnings,  her  name 
was  the  first  attached,  of  all  the  many  thousands  upon  the 
various  petitions.  Her  two  lectures  on  '  Sisters  of  Charity 
at  Home  and  Abroad,'  and  on  the  '  Communion  of 


LATER  LIFE.  293 


Labour,'  were  each  read  in  person  to  a  very  large  drawing- 
room  audience,  and  contain  more  sound  thought,  fearlessly 
expressed,  than  anything  that  has  appeared  elsewhere  on 
women's  life  and  labour.  The  earnest  eloquence  of  her 
'  Letter  to  Lord  John  Russell,'  prefixed  to  the  last  edition 
of  these  lectures,  should  touch  many  hearts  to  the  quick, 
now  that  the  hand  which  penned  it  is  cold  in  death.  She 
speaks  from  the  calm  heights  of  '  sixty  years '  with  a  force 
and  a  power  which  will  echo  long  amidst  us.  Where 
shall  we  find  such  another  heart — one  so  just,  so  gentle  ; 
so  sympathetic  for  men,  yet  so  brave  for  women ;  so 
generous  and  affectionate  for  all  ? 

The  writer  of  these  lines  was  one  who  knew 
and  loved  Mrs.  Jameson  well.  She  was  one  of 
those  who  had  felt  the  value  of  such  aid  and  sym- 
pathy as  my  aunt  was  always  ready  to  give,  in  the 
efforts  which  she  herself  had  been  engaged  in,  con- 
jointly with  other  young  women,  to  open  up  fresh 
chances  of  work  and  independence  to  those  of  their 
own  sex  who  required  to  work  in  order  to  live.  In 
all  these  efforts  Mrs.  Jameson  took  the  kindest, 
warmest  interest,  encouraging  the  workers  in  their 
less  hopeful  moments,  advising  them  in  their  many 
difficulties,  while  they  sat  like  young  disciples  at  her 
feet,  and  gave  due  weight  to  each  word  that  fell 
from  her  lips.  Some  of  these  ladies  founded  a 
periodical  that  had  some  years  of  existence — '  The 
Englishwoman's  Magazine,'  of  which  Miss  Parkes 
was  the  editor,  and  to  which  Adelaide  Procter  was 


294  ANNA  JAMESON. 

a  contributor,  Emily  Faithfull  being  the  printer, 
with  her  female  staff.  I  am  not  aware  that  Mrs. 
Jameson  ever  contributed  any  article  of  her  own  to 
these  pages,  but  she  was  as  a  tower  of  strength  to 
the  girl- editor  and  writers,  and  they  held  on  firmly 
by  the  hands  she  extended  to  them. 


HER  J.AST  DAYS.  295 


CHAPTER     XI. 

HER    LAST    DAYS. 

AFTER  this  temporary  departure  from  her  own  che- 
rished and  favourite  path,  Mrs.  Jameson  returned 
once  more  to  her  projects  of  travel  and  to  the  art- 
expositions  which  were  her  most  characteristic  work. 
During  the  preceding  five  or  six  years,  her  home 
had  been  alternately  with  her  two  sisters  Eliza  and 
Charlotte  at  Ealing,  or  in  London  with  her  sister 
Camilla.  Now,  before  quitting  England  with  every 
intention  of  thenceforth  passing  the  greater  portion 
of  her  time  on  the  Continent,  she  removed  with  her 
sisters,  at  their  express  desire,  from  Ealing  to  Brigh- 
ton, a  place  she  herself  simply  detested,  but  for 
which  they  had  a  special  fancy,  and  whither  they 
felt  now  more  particularly  attracted,  from  the  fact 
that  their  sister  Camilla  had  removed  thither  some 
few  months  previously. 

Having  thus  reconstructed  the  '  family  nest,'  as 
she  loved  to  call  it,  Mrs.  Jameson  went  to  Paris, 
where  she  found  the  Brownings,  Mme.  Mohl,  and 


296  ANNA  JAMESON. 

divers  other  friends  established  more  or  less  tem- 
porarily ;  and  here  she  began  at  once  to  occupy  her- 
self with  the  preparation  of  a  second  edition  of  her 
'  Madonna  book.'  For  this  the  whole  of  the  larger 
illustrations  required  to  be  redone.  In  the  first 
edition  of  this  volume,  in  lieu  of  attempting,  with  her 
failing  sight,  the  etchings  on  copper  that  had  accom- 
panied the  numerous  woodcuts  of  the  first  volume 
of  the  series  (in  which  I  had  the  privilege  of 
assisting  her,  being  with  her  at  the  time),  she 
mentioned  in  the  preface  that  the  drawings  for  this 
had  been  achieved  '  by  a  less  tedious,  but  also  less 
effective  process,'  and,  as  it  proved,  likewise  a  far 
less  durable  one,  for  the  plates  could  not  last  out 
even  one  more  edition,  and  she  had  resolved  on  the 
transfer  of  the  whole  to  copper,  and  concluded  on 
having  them  executed  by  me  during  the  months  she 
proposed  spending  in  Rome. 

To  this  city  she  came  early  in  the  year  1857,  and 
in  the '  Vignette'  already  quoted  from,  the  writer,  who 
also  passed  that  spring  in  Rome,  tells  the  reader 
that  to  see  Mrs.  Jameson 

kindle  into  enthusiasm  amidst  the  gorgeous  natural  beauty, 
the  antique  memorials,  and  the  sacred  Christian  relics  of 
Italy,  is  a  sight  which  one  who  witnessed  it  will  never  for- 
get There  is  not  a  cypress  upon  the  Roman  hills,  or  a 
sunny  vine  overhanging  the  southern  gardens,  or  a  picture 
in  those  vast  sombre  galleries  of  foreign  palaces,  or  a  cata- 


HER  LAST  DAYS.  297 

comb  spread  out  vast  and  dark  under  the  martyr-churches 
of  the  city  of  the  Seven  Hills,  which  is  not  associated  with 
some  vivid  flash  of  her  intellect  and  imagination,  and  with 
the  dearer  recollections  of  personal  kindness. 

She  used  to  say  that  a  picture  to  her  was  like  a  plain 
writing ;  when  she  looked  at  it,  she  seemed  to  feel  in- 
stantly for  what  purpose  it  had  been  wrought.  She  loved 
to  fancy  the  old  artist  painting  it  in  his  studio,  and  the 
man  who  bought  it  to  offer  as  a  votive  offering  for  the 
health  of  some  one  he  loved,  or  in  commemoration  of 
some  one  who  was  dead.  If  saints  or  fathers  were  intro- 
duced into  the  composition,  she  knew  each  by  his  aspect, 
and  why  he  was  in  attendance ;  and  could  tell  the  story  of 
their  lives,  and  what  they  had  done  for  the  faith.  The 
strange  mystic  symbolism  of  the  early  mosaics  was  a 
familiar  language  to  her  ;  she  would  stand  on  the  polished 
marble  of  the  Latcran  floor,  or  under  the  gorgeously 
sombre  tribune  of  the  Basilica  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore, 
reading  off  the  quaint  emblems,  and  expounding  the  pious 
thoughts  of  more  than  a  thousand  years  ago. 

At  Rome  there  is  an  ancient  church  hard  by  the  blood- 
stained amphitheatre  of  the  Coliseum  dedicated  to  St. 
Clement,  the  companion  of  St.  Paul  (and  himself  a  de- 
scendant of  the  Flavia  gens).  Tradition  says  he  lived 
there  ;  at  any  rate  the  present  building  is  of  the  date 
A.D.  800,  and  built  on  the  foundation  of  one  much  older.1 
In  this  church  she  delighted,  and  to  it  she  would  take 
anyone  who  sympathised  with  her  peculiar  feeling  for  art. 
Her  talk,  as  she  described  it,  was  a  running  commentaiy 
on  the  books  she  published  on  kindred  subjects. 

1  When  Mrs.  Jameson  left  Rome  for  the  last  time  in  1859,  the 
lower  church,  with  its  early  specimens  of  fresco  and  wonderful  sub- 
terraneans, was  still  a  hidden  treasure,  the  very  existence  of  which 
was  a  mere  tradition. 


298  ANNA  JAMESON. 

I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  take  from  Miss  Parkes 
even  so  slight  an  account  of  the  delight  and  value 
of  my  aunt's  companionship  and  guidance  among 
the  treasures  of  art  which  she  knew  so  well ;  for 
the  subject  is  one  on  which  I  can  scarcely  trust  my- 
self to  speak.  The  execution  of  the  etchings  for  the 
'  Legends  of  the  Madonna,'  to  which  I  have  already 
referred,  and  which  she  confided  to  me,  brought  us 
once  more  into  something  of  our  old  relations,  as  I 
again  worked  under  her  direction  in  paths  so  fami- 
liar ;  yet  how  great  was  the  difference !  The  con- 
trast between  the  young  inexperienced  girl  who  had 
filled  the  same  place  nearly  a  dozen  years  before, 
and  the  woman  who  was  now  herself  a  mother  and 
mistress  of  a  family,  immersed  in  all  the  cares  which 
attend  maturing  life,  struck  myself  with  sufficient 
force,  but  must  have  made  a  still  more  painful  im- 
pression of  change  upon  her,  the  dear  and  ever  in- 
dulgent director  of  the  work  ;  too  clear-  sighted  not 
to  see  the  divided  attention  which  was  all  I  now  had 
to  give  her ;  too  loving  and  sympathising  not  to 
forgive,  but  at  the  same  time  too  sensitive  not  to 
feel  the  contrast.  I  cannot  myself  look  back  upon 
this  temporary  reunion  without  a  keen  pang  of  sym- 
pathy with  her  for  the  change  she  must  have  expe- 
rienced in  it,  and  of  admiration  for  the  doubly  tender 
silence  which  she  maintained  on  the  subject,  never 
increasing  my  semi-remorseful  consciousness  by  any 


HER  LAST  DAYS.  299 

betrayal  of  her  own.  The  whole  series  of  etchings, 
about  thirty  in  number  if  I  recollect  rightly,  were 
completed  during  the  summer. 

Mrs.  Jameson  spent  that  summer,  I  believe, 
altogether  in  Italy,  but  not  in  the  vicinity  of  Rome. 
The  month  of  December  found  her  settled  down  in 
Florence.  Thence  she  wrote  on  December  6,  1857, 
to  Mr.  Longman  from  No.  1902  Via  Maggio,  what 
she  terms 

merely  a  letter  of  business ;  for  though  I  have  much  to 
say  to  you,  I  cannot  say  it  all  now,  and  if  you  are  so 
much  engaged,  it  will  be  better  deferred  for  a  few  days. 
I  dined  with  Lord  Normanby  yesterday,  who  does  not 
look  the  worse  for  his  long  journey,  nor  for  the  reviewers 
who  seem  to  me  very  ill-natured.  I  have  also  just  seen 
the  pictures  recently  purchased  here  for  the  National  Gal- 
lery, and  am  enchanted  that  we  have  got  them  at  last. 
They  are  all  to  me  old  acquaintances,  old  in  every  sense, 
but  supplying  a  great  gap  in  our  historic  series.1 

Later  in  the  same  month  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Long- 
man to  say — 

I  have  the  review  of  '  Vasari '  more  than  half  finished, 
and  here  at  Florence  I  have  been  able  to  add  many  in- 
teresting things.  ...  I  do  not  care  to  finish  this  review 
(which  I  began  two  years  ago)  unless  sure  of  its  acceptance 
and  when  it  would  be  wanted. 

For  some  reason  or  other  the  review  of  '  Vasari ' 
never  was  concluded  or  published.  For  the  events 

1  The  Rinuccini  collection  f?). 


300  ANNA  JAMESON. 

of  these  later  years  and  Mrs.  Jameson's  own  expres- 
sion of  the  frame  of  mind  in  which  they  found  her 
— for  all  concerning  the  outer  and  inner  life — 
the  cessation  of  her  correspondence  with  Major 
Noel  is  a  misfortune  for  the  compiler  of  this  memoit, 
for  no  other  series  of  intimate  letters  has  been  found 
obtainable  to  complete  the  story  of  the  last  ten  years 
of  her  active  life. 

It  was  not  until  her  return  to  Rome  in   1859 
that    my  aunt    ever   spoke  to  me   personally  wit! 
reference  to    the   subject,  still  so   exquisitely  pain 
ful  to  her,  of  the  broken  friendship  with  Lady  Byron 
For  my  own  part,  knowing  of  the  fact  through  other 
long  previously,  I  had  most  carefully  refrained  fro? 
any  allusion  to  it  by  word  of  mouth  or  letter,  thoug1- 
few  could  more  perfectly  realise  what  the  recoil  mus 
have    been    when    the    spring    of    that    friendship 
snapped  for  ever.      I  could  well  remember  the  daily, 
all  but  hourly  exchange  of  thought   in  innumerable 
letters  ;  the  continual  visits,  more  or  less  prolonged, 
to    Fordhook,     Esher,    Brighton,    wherever    Lady 
Byron's  home  might  temporarily  chance   to  be.     I 
believe,  though  I  never  heard  it  said,  that  the  reason 
why  Mrs.  Jameson  '  could  not  bear  Brighton '  was  the 
fact  of  the  many  days  passed  there  at  intervals  with 
that  all-absorbing  friend.      Even  now  she  did  not 
disclose  to  me  the  actual  cause  ;    as    I  have  said, 
until  lately,   this  remained    to  me  a  mystery  ;   but 


HER  LAST  DAYS.  301 

for  the  first  time  she  spoke  of  the  matter  to  me,  and 
told  me  that  the  break  in  this  friendship  had  been 
to  her  a  mortal  blow,  one  from  which  she  should 
not  recover.  She  felt  her  vital  power  gone,  and 
while  she  hoped  that  her  strength  might  endure 
until  she  had  '  finished  her  work ' — her  work  that 
lay  so  near  her  heart,  on  the  fruits  of  which  she 
counted  as  a  source  of  partial  support  to  the  dear 
ones  she  was  to  leave  behind  her  in  the  world — she 
knew,  she  said,  that  for  her  the  end  was  near  at  hand. 
And  most  surely  the  failing  in  health  and  spirit 
observable  in  1857  was  far  more  evident  in  1859. 
Here  in  Rome  we  thought  her  sadly  altered,  en- 
feebled in  body,  and  dispirited  in  her  mind  about 
herself  and  all  her  undertakings.  But  we  did  not 
think  that  never  again  were  we  to  see  her  among 
her  favourite  haunts  in  the  Rome  she  loved.  In 
the  pleasant  apartment  occupied  by  her  close  by  the 
Tiber  fa$ade  of  the  Palazzo  Borghese,  looking  out 
over  the  river  at  the  point  known  as  the  Porto  di 
Ripetta,  Mrs.  Jameson  found  much  enjoyment 
during  her  stay  in  Rome ;  but  the  least  fatigue  ex- 
hausted her  strength,  and  she  rarely  passed  an 
evening  out  of  her  own  rooms.  Her  friends  went 
to  her,  old  friends  and  new  acquaintances,  and  she 
did  not  lack  for  visitors  when  she  would  admit  of 
such  distraction  from  her  steady  work  : — such  old 
friends  as  Gibson,  for  instance,  a  lonely  man  since 


302  ANNA  JAMESON. 

the  death  of  his  brother,  the  gentle  '  Mr.  Benjamin/ 
as  Gibson  invariably  styled  him,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Story  and  Harriett  Hosmer,  in  whose  career  my 
aunt  had  been  keenly  interested  since  the  days  she 
was  G.ibson's  pupil.  Charles  Hemans,  but  lately 
lost  to  Rome,  was  also  a  welcome  visitor,  and  others 
whom  I  do  not  now  call  to  mind.  Among  the 
newer  acquaintances  were  the  Hawthornes,  who 
spent  that  winter  in  Rome.  I  believe  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne in  his  '  European  Diary '  mentions  the  fact 
of  his  having  met  with  Mrs.  Jameson  ;  I  am  under 
the  impression  that  he  visited  galleries  and  churches 
with  her,  but,  preferring  to  maintain  intact  his  own 
very  singular  impressions  and  opinions  as  to  art,  an- 
cient and  modern,  did  not  particularly  appreciate  her 
elucidations.  I  have  not  the  '  Diary '  at  hand  to  refer 
to,  but  my  impression  was  at  the  time  that  sym- 
pathy in  art  at  least  was  impossible  between  them. 

During  this  winter  Mrs.  Jameson  had  com- 
menced her  last  work,  the  volumes  that  were  to 
complete  the  sacred  art  series — the  *  History  of  Our 
Lord  and  of  St.  John  the  Baptist.'  She  continued  her 
labours  in  Florence,  where  she  passed  two  months, 
although  ill  the  greater  portion  of  the  time,  her  one 
great  compensation  being  the  society  of  her  dear 
friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning,  and  one  or  two 
other  persons  living  in  Florence,  to  whom  she  was 
warmly  attached.  She  then  went  north,  and,  cross- 


HER  LAST  DA  VS.  303 

ing  the  Alps,  once  more  joined  her  beloved  Ottilie 
for  the  last  time.  She  was  still  with  Mme.  de 
Goethe  in  the  month  of  August  in  Dresden,  or 
rather  at  Maxen,  some  fifteen  miles  from  the  Saxon 
capital,  a  country  house  belonging  to  their  mutual 
friend  Mme.  Serre. 

The  situation  is  beautiful  (she  writes  to  her  sister 
Charlotte),  and  the  scenery  very  peculiar ;  we  are  near 
what  is  called  the  Saxon  Switzerland.  The  house  is  at- 
tached to  part  of  an  old  ruined  castle,  and  on  the  other 
side  is  a  large  farm.  I  see  the  basse  cour  from  my  bed- 
room windows  ;  thirty-six  cows  of  different  breeds,  and 
other  stock  in  proportion.  In  the  house  there  is  a  family 
of  thirteen  Italian  greyhounds,  of  three  generations,  all 
romping  together  with  a  fine  cock,  which,  having  taken  to 
them  when  a  chicken,  will  no  longer  live  among  the 
poultry,  but  spends  his  life  with  the  greyhounds ;  and  to 
see  two  or  three  of  the  greyhound  puppies  and  this  old 
cock  at  a  game  of  play  is  certainly  the  drollest  thing 
imaginable.  I  have  had  a  letter  from  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor,1 asking  me  to  call  on  some  friends  of  his  at  Dresden, 
which  I  shall  do  as  soon  as  I  return  there. 

On  October  8  Mrs.  Jameson  writes  to  tell  her 
sisters  at  Brighton  of  her  arrival  in  London,  '  safe 
and  well  after  a  rapid  journey,  very  tired.  At  nine 
on  Monday  morning  I  start  for  Bradford.' 

Thither  she  went,  having  purposely  hastened  her 
return  from  the  Continent  to  attend  the  Social 
Science  meeting  to  be  held  in  that  city,  intending 

1  Her  old  friend  in  Ireland,  the  Hon.  Maziere  Brady. 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


at  the  same  time  to  pay  some  visits  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. She  went  first  to  Fryston  Hall,  near 
Pomfret  Castle,  the  residence  of  Mr.  Monckton 
Milnes,  from  whom  she  had  received  a  cordial  in- 
vitation. From  this  house  she  wrote  to  her  sisters 
that  she  had  felt  greatly  fatigued  by  the  journey 
down,  and  had  '  kept  her  room  all  Saturday.' 

On  Sunday  I  drove  over  to  Haworth,  with  the  clergy- 
man who  was  to  preach  a  charity  sermon  there,  and  invited 
me  to  accompany  him.  Haworth,  you  know,  was  the 
home  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  where  she  died.  We  were 
received  by  the  feeble,  desolate  old  man,  her  father,  and — 
I  shall  tell  you  the  rest  when  I  see  you.  I  came  over 
to  Fryston,  this  beautiful  place  of  Monckton  Milnes,  near 
Pomfret  Castle,  and  have  been  very  much  pleased  with 
my  visit.  Miss  Carpenter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowper,  Mr. 
Brookfield,  and  other  interesting  people  have  been  here, 
about  eighteen  to  dinner  every  day.  On  Thursday  I  go 
to  Liverpool,  to  the  Rathbones,  and  thence  I  will  write 
again.  I  shall  not  be  in  Brighton  probably  till  next  week, 
perhaps  the  26th.  If  any  letters  arrive,  send  them  to  me, 
care  of  William  Rathbone,  Esq.,  Greenbank,  Liverpool. 

Mrs.  Jameson's  visit  to  the  Social  Science  meet- 
ing is  thus  recorded  by  Miss  Parkes  : 

She  attended  the  Social  Science  meeting  at  Bradford 
in  October  1859,  and  sat  during  the  whole  of  one  day  in 
the  section  B,  where  papers  on  the  employment  of«-women 
were  being  read,  and  occasionally  joined  in  the  discussion 
which  ensued.  When  Mrs.  Jameson  spoke,  a  deep  silence 
fell  upon  the  crowded  assembly.  It  was  quite  singular  to 


HER  LAST  DA  VS.  305 

see  the  intense  interest  she  excited.  Her  age,  and  the 
comparative  refinement  of  her  mental  powers,  had  pre- 
vented her  sphere  of  action  from  being  '  popular '  in  the 
modern  sense  ;  and  this,  of  course,  created  a  stronger  desire 
to  see  and  hear  her  of  whom  they  knew  little  personally. 
Her  singularly  low  and  gentle  voice  fell  like  a  hush  upon 
the  crowded  room,  and  every  eye  bent  eagerly  upon  her, 
and  every  ear  drank  in  her  thoughtful  and  weighty 
words. 

In  the  next  few  months,  which  were  the  last 
of  her  life,  she  continued  the  concluding  work 
of  her  series,  the  crown  of  the  undertaking,  that 
which  was  to  exhibit  the  manner  in  which  art  had 
told  the  history  of  our  Lord.  Had  it  been  chosen 
with  purpose  and  intention,  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible to  find  a  more  touching  or  worthy  conclu- 
sion to  her  own  life  and  labours  ;  and,  as  it  happens, 
the  portions  of  her  work  which  she  was  able  to 
execute  were  just  those  which  it  is  most  consolatory 
to  think  of  as  having  occupied  her  last  thoughts. 
Late  in  the  year  1859,  after  the  visit  to  Bradford 
which  I  have  recorded,  and  a  few  subsequent  visits 
to  friends  in  Yorkshire  and  Lancashire — among 
others  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  at  Manchester — she  returned 
to  the  home  of  her  sisters  in  Brighton,  which  con- 
tinued her  headquarters  for  the  short  remainder  of 
her  life,  though  she  was  constantly  in  London, 
where  she  had  lodgings  in  Conduit  Street,  and  where 
she  spent  much  time  among  the  art  treasures  in  the 

x 


306  ANNA  JAMESON. 

print  room  of  the  British  Museum.  Thus  the 
last  subject  of  which  her  mind  was  full  was  the  most 
sacred  of  all  subjects.  Her  surviving  sister  re- 
members well  how  much  she  spoke  of  the  Divine 
story  upon  which  she  was  engaged,  and  how  deeply 
it  touched  her  feelings.  '  She  used  to  express  how 
much  her  pity  was  excited  by  John  the  Baptist,  and 
her  devotional  admiration  of  the  Divine  excellence 
of  his  Master.  I  have  seen  her  weep  as  she  spoke 
of  it.'  Lady  Eastlake,  in  her  preface  to  the  un- 
finished work  which  she  completed  and  published  a 
few  years  later,  gives  us  an  account  of  how  she 
found  the  fragments  as  they  had  dropped  from  the 
hands  of  the  original  writer  : 

I  found  a  programme,  contained  on  one  sheet  of  paper, 
of  the  titles  and  sequence  of  the  different  parts  of  the 
subject ;  also  a  portion  of  the  manuscript  in  a  completed 
state,  though  without  the  indication  of  a  single  illustration. 
For  what  was  still  unwritten  no  materials  whatever  were 
left.  By  her  sisters,  the  Misses  Murphy,  who  have  shown 
the  utmost  desire  to  assist  me,  I  was  furnished  with  many 
note-books  and  journals.  These,  however,  threw  no  light 
on  Mrs.  Jameson's  intentions  as  regards  the  treatment  of 
the  large  portion  still  unexecuted  ;  it  was  evident  that  she 
was  accustomed  to  trust  to  the  stores  of  her  rich  mind  and 
to  her  clear  memory.  ...  In  the  short  programme  .  .  . 
the  ideal  and  devotional  subjects  .  .  .  were  placed  first. 

This  arrangement  Lady  Eastlake  did  not  retain  ; 
but  it  gives  us  the  satisfaction  of  finding  a  large 


HER  LAST  DA  YS.  307 

part  of  the  more  affecting  and  personal  story, 
beginning  with  the  history  of  the  Innocents  and  of 
John  the  Baptist,  with  a  number  of  the  miracles  and 
parables,  and  many  particulars  of  the  Saviour's  life, 
'  written  by  her  own  hand.' 

Before  proceeding,  as  must  now  be  done,  to  the 
sad  and  brief  narrative  of  her  death,  I  cannot  re- 
frain from  taking  one  final  extract  from  what  must 
have  been  among  the  .very  last  of  my  aunt's  writ- 
ings. It  is  so  entirely  like  her,  so  beautiful  in 
expression,  so  full  of  the  pensive  and  chastened  en- 
thusiasm of  her  declining  life,  that  the  reader  cannot 
have  a  better  picture  of  that  fine  and  gentle  spirit, 
by  which  to  remember  her.  She  has  been  discuss- 
ing the  miracle  at  the  Pool  of  Bethesda  and  its 
treatment  in  art,  and  has  just  expressed  her  intense 
admiration  of  Murillo's  grand  picture,  '  formerly  in 
the  Hospital  of  Charity  at  Seville,  whence  it  was 
stolen  by  Marshal  Soult : ' 

I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  occasion  on  which  I 
first  beheld  this  beautiful  picture,  and  something,  perhaps, 
may  be  allowed  for  the  associations  connected  with  it. 
I  had  breakfasted  with  Mr.  Rogers,  and,  when  the  other 
guests  had  departed,  he  took  me  to  see  it.  It  was  then 
in  a  back  room  in  a  house  on  Carlton  Terrace,  looking  out 
on  gardens  quite  still  and  bright  with  summer  sunshine. 
It  had  been  raised  only  a  little  from  the  ground,  so  that 
the  heads  were  not  much  above  the  eye,  only  sufficiently 
so  to  make  one  look  up,  as  one  would  instinctively  have 

X   2 


3o8  ANNA  JAMESON. 

done  before  that  Divine  presence.  Then,  when  we  had 
contemplated  for  a  time  the  beauty  of  the  painting,  which 
really  struck  me  into  silence,  for  the  colour  seemed  to 
affect  us  both  in  the  same  manner,  like  tender  subdued  music 
from  many  grand  wind-instruments  all  breathing  in  har- 
mony, we  sat  down  opposite  to  it.  He  pointed  out  the 
rich  violet-purple  colour  of  the  robe  of  our  Saviour  as 
peculiar  to  the  Spanish  school,  and  contrasted  it  with  the 
conventional  red  tunic  and  blue  mantle  in  the  Italian  pic- 
tures. He  speculated  as  to  how  Raphael  would  have 
treated  the  same  subject,  and  we  compared  it  with  the 
cartoon  of  the  '  Beautiful  Gate,'  and  the  crippled  beggar  in 
that  picture  with  the  poor  disabled  paralytic  man  before 
us  ;  and  we  gave  the  preference  to  Murillo  in  point  of 
character  and  living  expression.  The  porches  of  Bethesda 
did  not  equal  the  wreathed  columns  of  the  gate,  called — 
how  justly ! — the '  Beautiful.'  But  then  how  soft,  how  trans- 
lucent, the  aerial  perspective,  and  how  the  radiant  angel 
comes  floating  down  !  Goethe  used  to  be  provoked  when 
comparisons  were  made  between  two  characters,  or  two 
artists,  or  two  productions  of  art,  the  true  value  of  which 
rested  in  their  individuality  and  their  unlikeness  to  each 
other  ;  but  a  large  portion  of  the  pleasure  we  derive  from 
art,  and  from  nature  too,  lies  in  the  faculty  of  comparison, 
in  the  perception  of  differences  and  of  degrees  of  qualities, 
in  the  appreciation  of  distinct  aims,  and  of  the  wondrous 
variety  with  which  Nature  reveals  herself  to  the  souls  of 
men.  If  we  were  forced  to  choose  between  Raphael  and 
Murillo,  who  was  the  master  of  the  great  and  the  grace- 
ful, we  must  turn  to  him  who  created  the  '  Heliodorus '  and 
the  '  School  of  Athens  ; '  but,  luckily  for  us,  we  are  neither 
obliged  to  compare  them,  nor  to  choose  between  them,  since 
God  has  given  us  both.  Something  like  this  did  we  say 
on  that  summer  morning,  sitting  before  that  marvellous 


HER  LAST  DA  YS.  309 

picture  ;  and,  since  then,  I  cannot  bring  it  before  my  mind 
without  thinking  also  of  the  dear  old  poet,  whose  critical 
taste  was  at  once  the  most  exquisite  and  least  exclusive 
that  I  have  ever  known. 

Let  me  add  that  the  sight  of  that  picture  awakened 
some  thoughts  which  were  perhaps  deeper  and  more 
mournful  than  the  painter  intended.  How  many  of  us 
might  well,  metaphorically,  have  laid  ourselves  down  for 
years  by  that  Pool  of  Bethesda,  and  no  angel  have  come 
down  from  heaven  to  trouble  it  with  a  divine  power,  or 
infuse  into  its  waters  a  spiritual  life  !  Or  if  it  were  so,  yet 
were  we  prostrated  by  our  own  infirmity,  and  there  was  no 
human  sympathy  near  to  help  us  down  into  its  healing  and 
reviving  waters,  no  aid  in  man  or  angel,  till  Christ  comes 
to  say,  '  Take  up  thy  bed  and  walk.' 

This  must  have  been  very  nearly  the  last  indica- 
tion of  personal  feeling  she  ever  wrote,  and  I  cannot 
but  think  it  very  touching  to  find  the  life  in  which 
there  had  been  so  little  joy,  if  so  much  contentment 
and  courageous  exertion,  and  whose  best  blessings 
had  always  been  '  of  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made 
of,'  thus  '  rounded  '  before  the  sleep,  with  a  sigh. 

After  Christmas  she  went  to  town  for  the  last 
time,  in  order  '  to  keep  her  engagements '  with 
printers,  &c.,  and  devoted  herself  to  her  work.  Her 
notes  grew  and  expanded  under  her  researches,  and 
I  believe  it  to  be  evident  that  she  intended  one 
more  volume  in  addition,  separate  from  the  one  she 
was  then  preparing.  The  note-book,  similar  in  form 
and  size,  exclusively  dedicated  to  subjects  from  the 


3io  ANNA  JAMESON. 

Old  Testament,  and  including  the  Prophets  and 
Sibyls,  and  what  are  designated  as  '  theological 
cycles,'  and  forming  a  fifth  part  distinct  from  the 
four  others — which  were  dedicated,  one  to  the  '  Saints 
and  Martyrs/  one  to  the  '  Monastic  Orders,'  and  one 
to  the  '  Madonnas ' — seem  to  indicate  her  plan  to 
have  remained  unchanged  of  publishing,  according  to 
her  own  original  idea,  the  '  Life  of  Our  Lord  and  St. 
John  the  Baptist.'  In  taking  up  Mrs.  Jameson's 
uncompleted  labours,  Lady  Eastlake  altered  the  pro- 
gramme, preferring  to  place  the  subjects  chrono- 
logically according  to  the  plan  of  '  most  systems  of 
Christian  art,'  and  publishing  the  whole  under  the 
one  title  of  the  '  History  of  our  Lord.'  Whether  in 
point  of  fact  this  was  the  better  plan,  need  not  now 
be  discussed.  Lady  Eastlake  was  perhaps  the  one 
person  among  Mrs.  Jameson's  friends  to  whom  such 
a  labour  could  have  been  confided,  and  carefully  and 
conscientiously  she  achieved  her  difficult  task. 

I  cannot  find  any  further  record  of  the  course 
of  those  quiet  and  laborious  months.  Many  of  the 
long  winter  mornings  were  spent  in  the  British 
Museum,  and  my  aunt  had  friends  within  reach  who 
kept  her  surrounded  with  the  most  affectionate  and 
devoted  companionship  ;  especially  those  younger 
friends  who  were  half  daughters,  half  disciples  to 
her,  and  to  whose  affection  the  motherly  side  of  her 


HER  LAST  DAYS.  311 

nature  never  failed  to  respond.  One  morning,  how- 
ever, in  the  early  chills  of  March,  she  returned  to 
her  lodgings  from  the  Museum  in  a  snow-storm,  and 
caught  what  she  supposed  to  be  only  a  severe  cold. 
On  the  loth  she  wrote,  what  was  probably  her  last 
letter,  to  Miss  Parkes,  saying  that  it  was  uncertain 
whether  she  could  go  out  that  day,  and  expressing 
her  wish  that  her  young  friend  would  come  to  see 
her  in  the  evening.  She  did  not  suppose  herself  to 
be  seriously  ill,  for  she  wound  up  with  the  words : 
'  I  hope  Adelaide  is  better,  and  will  be  able  to  fulfil 
her  promise  to  take  me  to  see  the  printing-presses.' 

This  was  on  a  Saturday,  and  when  Miss  Parkes 
went  that  evening  to  see  her,  she  thought  Mrs. 
Jameson  very  ill  indeed,  and  wished  to  summon  the 
sisters  from  Brighton.  But  Mrs.  Jameson  opposed 
this  idea,  saying  she  should  probably  feel  better  the 
following  day,  and  did  not  wish  any  unnecessary 
alarm  created.  Miss  Parkes  returned  next  morning 
with  Miss  Procter,  and  the  two  young  friends  agreed 
not  to  lose  a  moment  in  telegraphing  to  Brighton  on 
their  own  responsibility.  The  sisters  came  up  to 
town  as  soon  as  the  news  reached  them,  and  the  at- 
tendance of  the  one  physician  in  whom  Mrs.  Jameson 
had  confidence,  a  homoeopath,  was  obtained  as  soon 
as  possible.  Unfortunately  he  chanced  to  be  absent 
from  London,  and  did  not,  I  believe,  see  his  patient 
until  Monday  evening,  when  the  sharp  attack  of 


312  ANNA  JAMESON. 

bronchitis  had  settled  down  on  the  lungs,  and  was 
gaining  ground  rapidly. 

'  We  had  no  reason  to  think  she  was  aware  of 
her  danger/  her  sister  Camilla  wrote.  But  the  dis- 
ease made  rapid  progress.  '  The  brain  was  soon 
affected.'  But  it  was  affected  in  no  painful  way,  and 
the  '  wanderings '  of  her  weakness  were  entirely 
harmonious  with  the  closing  life.  '  She  talked  much 
of  the  beautiful  drawings  or  engravings  Mr.  Panizzi 
had  shown  her  a  few  days  previous.'  These  and 
no  less  congenial  subjects  floated  about  her  in  that 
debateable  land  between  life  and  death,  in  which 
she  was  lying  when,  one  after  another,  the  sisters 
came,  '  stunned  with  grief  and  perplexity,'  to  see  the 
prop  of  their  existence  laid  low.  Impossible  to  tell 
all  she  had  been  to  them — their  material  support, 
their  constant  consoler  and  sympathiser,  their  pride 
and  distinction.  Outside  that  darkened  chamber 
there  was  much  friendly  sympathy  and  solicitude  ; 
her  door  '  was  besieged '  by  anxious  friends,  '  her 
table  loaded  with  luxuries  and  delicacies,'  but  all  in 
vain.  Her  doctor  was  powerless  to  arrest  the  pro- 
gress of  the  disease.  Within  a  week  from  the  time 
of  her  seizure  she  was  at  rest  from  her  cares  and  her 
labours. 

She  had  so  wished  to  live  until  her  work  was 
completed.  She  felt  it  to  be  so  absolutely  necessary, 
even  in  a  pecuniary  light,  to  achieve  this  in  order 


HER  LAST  DAYS.  313 

to  leave  the  future  of  her  sisters  in  some  measure 
assured  ;  that  losing  her  they  should  not  be  at  once 
deprived  of  all  means  of  support.  Her  annuity  and 
her  pension1  died  with  her,  and  any  provision  she 
could  hope  to  put  together  for  them,  even  had  her 
desire  been  realised,  could  have  been  but  partially 
adequate  for  the  support  of  one,  far  less  of  three  ; 
it  could  not  have  been  more  than  a  mere  trifle  in 
amount — only  a  temporary  resource.  Even  this, 
however,  was  not  to  be.  Perhaps  that  long  period 
of  unconsciousness  that  preceded  the  last  hours  was 
well  for  her — perhaps  it  was  well  for  her  that  she 
was  thus  spared  the  keen  pang  of  anxiety  at  the 
supreme  moment — spared  the  sight  of  the  agonised 
grief  of  those  she  loved  on  earth. 

To  us,  her  far-off  dear  ones,  when  the  sad 
tidings  came  to  us  of  illness  and  death  all  in  the  one 
startling  letter,  it  seemed  scarcely  credible  that  the 
strong  true  heart  could  so  suddenly  have  ceased  to 
throb  for  us,  and  that  the  light  of  her  fine  intellect 
was  quenched  for  ever. 

Mrs.  Browning,  then  in  Rome,  herself  ill  and 
suffering,  wrote  to  me  in  a  few  agitated  words  that 

1  The  pension  was  continued  to  her  two  unmarried  sisters,  Eliza 
and  Charlotte  ;  but  unfortunately  lapsed  on  the  death  of  the  latter, 
though  the  survivor  of  the  family,  Camilla  (Mrs.  Sherwin),  lives  at 
eighty,  not  rich  enough  to  be  indifferent  to  the  loss  of  the  little  family 
revenue  which  her  sister's  merits  had  won.  It  seems  impossible  to 
doubt  that  the  Queen's  kind  heart  would  continue  the  allowance  were 
the  circumstances  known. 


ANNA  JAMESON. 


I  knew  something,  perhaps  not  all,  that  she  felt  in 
'  losing  (as  far  as  the  loving  can  lose  those  whom 
they  love,  as  far  as  death  brings  loss)  that  great 
heart,  that  noble  human  creature.  May  God  com- 
fort you,  and  those  who,  like  you,  know  what  she 
was  —  that  dearest  friend  !  ' 

She  was  buried  at  Kensal  Green  by  the  graves 
of  her  father  and  mother. 


APPENDIX. 

i. 

JOHN  GIBSON. 

CONTRIBUTED   TO   THE   '  ART   JOURNAL* 
BY  MRS.  JAMESON. 

IT  is  difficult  to  write  freely  concerning  a  great  living  artist ; 
to  speak  of  what  he  is,  how  he  became  what  he  is ;  and 
how  was  formed,  trained,  built  up,  that  individual  mind 
and  being  of  which  his  works,  in  as  far  as  he  is  '  a  good 
man  and  true,'  are  but  the  visible  manifestation  ;  to  show 
where  the  perfect  thought  has  been  worked  out  in  shape  as 
perfect ;  where  perchance — for  humanity  is  ever  fallible — 
the  creating  hand  has  fallen  short  of  the  divine  concep- 
tion ;  and  how  the  heaven-sprung  genius,  sustained  by  the 
strenuous  will,  battled  with  the  adverse  world  and  over- 
came it,  until  step  by  step  the  goal  was  reached  towards 
which  his  sou!  had  yearned  in  boyhood  : — to  speak  of  all 
this  faithfully  belongs  to  another  time  and  other  hands. 
For  the  present  we  must  even  meet  the  difficulty  as  we 
can  ;  and  who  that  admires  Mr.  Gibson  would  wish  the 
difficulty  removed  ?  To  know  that  he  is  now  living  and 
working  among  us  is  a  satisfaction  which  may  well  com- 
pensate the  writer  for  the  anxiety  attending  the  task,  as  it 
will  surely  reconcile  the  reader  to  what  must  be  unavoid- 
ably meagre  and  imperfect  in  the  result. 

John  Gibson  was  born  at  Conway,  in  the  year  1791. 
His  father,  a  landscape-gardener,  had  come  over  from  his 
native  place,  Llanidan,  in  the  island  of  Anglesey,  to  lay 


NOTK. — It  was  the  author's  original  intention  to  reprint  several  other 
papers  in  this  appendix  5  but  the  intention  cannot  now  be  carried  out. 


316  APPENDIX. 


out  the  grounds  of  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  and  continued 
to  reside  at  Conway  for  several  years  afterwards.  In 
general,  wherever  there  has  been  a  decided  talent  for  the 
formative  arts,  that  talent  has  been  manifested  from 
earliest  infancy  ;  and  as  often,  we  find  it  recorded  that  the 
early  talent  has  been  remarked  and  cherished  by  some 
discriminating  mother:  Gibson  is  not  an  exception.  He 
began  to  draw  on  his  father's  slate,  and  his  first  production 
was  a  row  of  geese,  as  he  had  seen  them  on  the  glassy 
inlet  near  Conway,  so  well  done  that  his  mother  caressed 
and  praised  him,  and  the  geese  became  a  standing  subject. 
At  last  his  mother  said,  '  Now  you  must  not  go  on  re- 
peating this  every  day  ;  draw  me  a  horse.'  The  child  ran 
out  into  the  fields,  watched  a  horse  for  some  time,  came 
back,  and  drew  it  on  his  slate.  His  mother's  interest  in 
his  progress,  and  her  fond  praise,  decided  the  taste  ;  but 
at  Conway  there  was  no  one  to  help  or  encourage,  and  he 
saw  nothing  in  the  shape  of  art  but  his  father's  plans  for 
gardens  and  shrubberies.  At  this  time  it  seems  the  family 
affairs  were  not  prosperous  ;  and  when  Gibson  was  about 
nine  years  old  his  parents  removed  to  Liverpool  with  the 
intention  of  emigrating  to  America.  This  plan  was  never 
realised  ;  but  the  removal  to  a  large  town  and  a  better 
school  opened  to  the  young  artist  some  means  of  improve- 
ment, of  which  he,  in  his  childish  unconscious  way,  and 
unmarked  by  all,  availed  himself. 

The  first  objects  that  seized  upon  his  attention  in 
Liverpool  were  the  prints  in  the  shop-windows.  On  his 
way  to  and  from  school,  he  lingered,  spell-bound  and 
enchanted,  before  these,  struck  with  a  new  sense  of  beauty, 
filled  with  vain  longings  to  possess — to  imitate.  Hopeless 
of  obtaining  what  he  so  admired  and  coveted,  he  hit  upon 
a  singular  plan  of  study.  He  would  stand  for  a  long  time 
before  some  particular  print,  dwelling  on  a  single  figure  till 


APPENDIX.  317 


it  was  impressed  on  his  memory ;  then  he  would  run 
home  quickly  and  imitate  on  paper  the  action  or  attitude ; 
then  return  to  the  window  again  and  again,  and  correct 
and  re-correct  his  drawing  till  it  was  completed.  This 
habit  of  drawing  from  recollection  stimulated  his  percep- 
tion and  strengthened  his  memory  for  form  ;  and  he  has 
been  heard  to  say  that  the  advantages  thus  oddly  obtained 
were  of  incalculable  importance  to  him  in  after  life.  It 
was  interesting  and  amusing,  too,  that  even  thus  early,  with 
the  study  of  art  as  a  taste,  grew  the  practice  of  art  as  a 
profession.  He  used  to  dispose  of  his  drawings  to  the 
school-boys,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  obtain  what  the 
poverty  of  his  parents  denied  to  him,  a  little  pocket-money. 
One  of  his  school-fellows,  having  received  from  his  mother 
a  new  prayer-book,  wished  to  honour  the  gift  by  an 
'  illustration '  on  the  blank  page.  He  applied  to  Gibson. 
The  subject  selected — from  what  notion  of  the  fitness  of 
things  it  would  now  be  difficult  to  guess — was  '  Napoleon 
crossing  the  Alps,"  from  the  print  after  David's  picture, 
which  they  had  seen  in  a  shop-window.  The  drawing  was 
made  ;  the  boy  gladly  paid  sixpence  for  it,  and  stuck  it  as 
a  frontispiece  in  his  prayer-book. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  Gibson  had  to  choose  his  pro- 
fession. He  begged  hard  to  be  articled  to  a  painter.  The 
large  premium  required  rendered  this  impossible,  and  he 
was  apprenticed  to  a  cabinet-maker.  Unable  to  conquer 
his  disgust  for  this  merely  mechanical  trade,  but  willing  to 
work,  he  induced  his  master  to  cancel  his  indentures,  and 
to  bind  him  over  again  as  a  wood-carver.  He  worked  for 
two  years  at  this  employment,  carving  scrolls  and  orna- 
ments for  furniture.  When  he  was  about  sixteen  he 
visited,  with  a  young  companion,  the  marble  works  of 
Messrs.  Francis.  Here,  though  the  works  produced  were 
merely  ornamental  chimneypieces,  urns,  sepulchral  monu- 
ments, and  the  like,  yet  the  elegance  of  some  of  the  objects, 


318  APPENDIX. 


which  were  copies  from  good  models,  the  lustre  and  beauty 
of  the  white  marble,  struck  poor  Gibson  with  surprise  and 
enchantment,  and  he  returned  home  with  a  new  ambition 
wakened  in  his  soul.     What  he  had  seen  darkened  his  day 
with   melancholy — haunted    his   dreams    by   night      His 
masters  had  hitherto  regarded  him  as  their  best  and  most 
promising   apprentice ;  he  had  been  treated  with  unusual 
kindness ;  his  conduct  had  been  uniformly  steady  and  re- 
spectful.     Conceive,  then,  the  astonishment  of  the    good 
cabinet-makers,  when  the  gifted  but  wilful  boy  threw  down 
his  tools,  and  declared  that  '  he  woyld  be  a  sculptor — that 
he  never  would  work  for  them  more.'    '  Not  work  ?  we  will 
have  you  up  before  the  magistrate ;  and  you  will  serve 
the  rest  of  your  time  in  gaol.'     He  remained  immoveable. 
'  They  have  been  most  kind  to  me,'  said  Gibson  once  in 
relating  his  part  in  the  transaction,  and  speaking  with  deep 
and  simple-hearted  feeling,  '  and  I  was,  as  I  think  now, 
horridly  ungrateful ;  but  there  was  something  working  too 
strong  for  me  or  anyone  to  control  :  I  felt  it  must  be — there 
was  no  help  for  it ! '     In  this  dilemma  Mr.  Francis,  of  the 
marble  works,   generously    interfered,   purchased   the    re- 
mainder of  his  time,  for  which  the  sum  of  7o/.  was  paid  to 
the  cabinet-makers,  and,  the  former  indentures  being  can- 
celled, Gibson  was  bound  apprentice  for  the  third  time — a 
rare  circumstance ;  but  now  how  gladly,  how  gratefully, 
did  he   exchange   masters !    He   was  the  happiest  of  the 
happy  ;  up  at  early  dawn,  incessantly  at  work  ;  designing, 
carving,  modelling.     His  new  employers  soon  found  they 
had  made  an  advantageous  bargain.     They  were  able  in  a 
short  time  to  dispense  with  their  foreman,  who  afterwards 
went  to  London  and  became  head-workman  to  Chantrey. 
But  the  young  apprentice  was  destined  for  better  things. 
He  was  beginning  to  feel  that  the  workshop  of  the  Messrs. 
Francis  could  afford  him  no  more  instruction ;  aspirations 
for  something  higher  and  better  dawned  upon  his  mind  ; 


APPENDIX.  319 


but  whither  was  he  to  go  ?  where  and  how  seek  their  ful- 
filment ?  This  was  the  turning-point  in  his  life.  He  wanted 
a  friend,  and  Providence  sent  him  that  friend  in  the  person 
of  the  late  Mr.  Roscoe,  then  rich  and  prosperous,  a  suc- 
cessful author,  a  patron  of  art,  and  regarded  by  his  towns- 
people, with  just  pride  and  reverence,  as  one  who  had 
achieved  an  European  celebrity. 

Mr.  Roscoe  called  one  day  at  the  marble-works  to 
order  a  chimneypiece  for  his  library.  Mr.  Francis  seized 
the  opportunity  to  introduce  young  Gibson,  and  Roscoe, 
after  looking  at  his  designs  and  models,  invited  him  to 
Allerton  Hall.  This  first  invitation  was  followed  by  many 
others  ;  a  new  world  seemed  to  open  upon  him.  The  kind 
and  accomplished  old  man  not  only  placed  before  him  a 
fine  collection  of  prints  and  drawings  after  the  old  masters, 
but  lent  him  some  of  the  most  valuable  among  them  to 
copy.  At  Allerton  Hall  he  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Law- 
rence, who  became  his  generous  and  enthusiastic  patroness. 
She  presented  him  to  her  brother,  General  d'Aguilar,  and 
her  sister  Mrs.  Robinson.  The  latter,  a  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished woman,  with  a  genuine  taste  for  poetry  and  art, 
appears  to  have  exercised  at  this  time  a  most  beneficial 
influence  over  Gibson's  opening  mind  and  powers.  Of 
what  unspeakable  importance  to  a  young  man  of  genius 
is  early  intercourse  with  pure,  high-minded,  intellectual, 
women,  those  can  tell  who  know  not  only  all  the  good  it 
can  bestow,  but  all  the  evil  from  which  it  can  preserve ; 
and  know,  too,  how  early  respect  for  womanhood  tends  to 
purify  and  elevate  those  impulses  which  must  live  through 
the  works  of  the  brain  and  hand,  and  are  to  the  talent 
what  the  forge  is  to  the  metal. 

Mr.  Roscoe  had  intended  to  send  Gibson  to  Rome  at 
his  own  expense.  The  misfortunes  which  fell  upon  him  in 
his  later  years  frustrated  this  plan  ;  but  his  generous  in- 
terest and  his  correct  judgment  were  of  the  greatest  use  to 


32o  APPENDIX. 


the  young  sculptor — for  Gibson  had  now  decidedly  taken 
up  the  profession.  He  was  about  eighteen  when  he  com- 
menced the  cartoon  of  the  '  Falling  Angels,'  which  is  now 
preserved  in  the  Liverpool  Institution.  He  had  learned 
from  Mr.  Roscoe  the  method  pursued  by  Michael  Angelo, 
Correggio,  and  others  of  the  great  Italian  masters,  when 
designing  the  cartoons  for  their  large  compositions ;  he 
modelled  small  figures  in  clay,  and  suspending  them  by  a 
thread  and  throwing  the  light  upon  them  in  the  required 
direction,  he  w.>s  thus  enabled  to  foreshorten  them  with  per- 
fect accuracy  and  relief.  At  this  time  he  executed  another 
cartoon,  the  subject  from  Dante  ;  this  cartoon  is  in  the  pos- 
session of  Mr.  Meyer,  of  Liverpool.  Gibson  saw  it  lately 
after  the  lapse  of  eight-and-twenty  years  ;  as  it  has  fre- 
quently happened  under  similar  circumstances,  he  was 
surprised  by  the  energy  and  power  displayed  in  this  early 
production.  '  He  felt,'  to  quote  his  own  words,  '  depressed 
and  mortified  rather  than  excited,  and  asked  himself 
whether  he  could  do  much  better  now.'  There  is  scarcely 
an  artist  of  eminence,  who,  on  looking  back  to  his  early 
attempts,  has  not  experienced  the  same  disappointment, 
and  felt  inclined  to  ask  himself  the  same  question  per- 
haps because  the  progress  afterwards  made  is  less  in 
power  than  in  the  art  of  using  power.  These  first  pro- 
ductions of  Gibson's  creative  imagination  showed  the  im- 
pression made  upon  his  fancy  by  the  works  of  Michael 
Angelo  ;  but  at  this  critical  time  he  was  saved  from  be- 
coming a  mannerist  and  imitator,  from  falling  perhaps  into 
an  exaggerated  or  vitiated  style,  by  the  excellent  advice  of 
his  friend  Mr.  Roscoe.  '  No  one,'  said  Roscoe,  '  admires 
Michael  Angelo  more  than  I  do ;  but  you  are  to  be  a 
sculptor,  not  a  painter.  You  must  not  imitate  Michael 
Angelo.  Take  for  your  guide  Greek  art  ;  there  all  is 
beauty,  dignity,  and  repose.' 

We  have  seen  two  little  casts  from  models  executed  by 


APPENDIX. 


321 


Gibson,  for  the  centres  of  chimneypieces,  when  he  was 
yet  in  the  workshop  of  the  Messrs.  Francis ;  one  repre- 
sents a  little  Cupid  in  bas-relief,  the  other  a  recumbent 
Psyche.  So  early  had  this  lovely  Greek  fable  seized  on 
his  imagination  !  And  when  he  set  aside  Michael  Angelo 
as  a  model,  and  turned,  as  his  friend  Roscoe  had  advised, 
to  the  divine  tranquillity  of  Greek  art,  Cupid  and  Psyche 
came  back  to  haunt  him,  and  appear  to  have  haunted  him 
ever  since. 

Those  were  happy  days  at  Allerton  Hall  ;  still  at  every 
step  achieved  there  was  a  beyond — beyond,  and  now  the 
longing  and  the  hope  to  reach  Rome  took  possession  of 
Gibson's  ardent  mind.  His  friends,  Mr.  Roscoe  and  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  consulted  together ;  induced  by  them,  some 
munificent  gentlemen  of  Liverpool  entered  into  a  subscrip- 
tion to  send  the  young  sculptor  to  Rome,  and  maintain 
him  there  for  two  years.  Furnished  with  a  sum  of  money 
sufficient  for  his  modest  wants,  and  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  Canova  from  his  friend  General  d'Aguilar,  he  started 
from  Liverpool  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1817. 

In  passing  through  London  Gibson  was  introduced  to 
Lord  Brougham,  and  to  Mr.  Watson  Taylor,  a  well-known 
patron  of  art ;  the  former  gave  him  a  letter  to  Canova, 
the  latter  gave  him  some  commissions  (busts  of  himself 
and  his  family),  the  payment  for  which  added  to  the  slender 
funds  of  the  traveller.  He  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Flaxman,  who  looked  over  his  designs  and  drawings,  and 
encouraged  him  with  kindly  earnest  praise.  Flaxman 
considered  a  journey  to  Rome  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
education  of  a  sculptor.  Chantrey,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
sidered it  so  much  time  lost  ;  and  some  temptations  were 
held  out  to  Gibson  to  induce  him  to  settle  in  London, 
where  one  of  his  kind  patrons  promised  to  '  push '  him. 
Apparently  Gibson  had  no  desire  to  be  '  pushed,'  but  a  true 
and  passionate  desire  to  distinguish  himself  in  the  poetical 

Y 


322  APPENDIX. 


department  of  his  art  ;  and  happily,  as  we  must  think, 
the  advice  of  Flaxman  and  his  own  nobler  ambition  pre- 
vailed. He  continued  his  journey,  and  arrived  in  Rome 
in  the  month  of  October  in  the  same  year. 

He  presented  himself  before  Canova  with  his  letters 
and  his  roll  of  drawings  in  his  hand,  and  with  such  anxiety 
and  trepidation  in  his  heart  as  took  away  all  courage  and 
self-possession.  But  Canova  was  a  good  judge  of  character 
as  well  as  of  talent ;  his  reception  was  more  than  kind. 
General  d'Aguilar  in  his  letter  had  requested  that  Canova 
would  point  out  the  most  economical  plan  of  study,  the 
circumstances  of  his  young  friend  being  very  limited.  On 
their  next  interview-Canova  welcomed  him  with  even  more 
cordiality,  and  spoke  to  him  openly  and  with  apparent 
interest  of  his  views,  and  his  means  of  carrying  them  out. 

'  I  have  been  thinking  much  about  you,'  said  he  kindly  ; 
*  with  steady  industry  you  will  become  a  great  artist.  I 
know  that  many  young  men  of  great  merit  come  to  Rome 
to  pursue  their  studies,  with  very  little  money  in  their 
purse  ;  now,  the  want  of  means  must  be  no  obstacle  to 
your  progress.  I  am  rich  ;  you  must  allow  me  to  pay  all 
the  expenses  of  your  sojourn  here,  till  your  own  talent  and 
industry  have  rendered  you,  as  they  certainly  will  render 
you  in  time,  independent  of  everybody.' 

Gibson,  with  strong  expressions  of  gratitude,  declined 
this  offer  ;  '  he  had  enough,'  he  said,  '  to  maintain  him,  with 
that  strict  economy  which  he  intended  to  practise,  for 
more  than  two  years.' 

'  Well,'  replied  Canova  with  a  smile  (he  was  not  accus- 
tomed, perhaps,  to  have  such  offers  refused),  'well,  it  shall 
be  as  you  please  ;  if  you  work  hard,  and  make  progress,  I 
will  introduce  you  to  some  of  your  countrymen.  We  shall 
see.' 

The  generous  sculptor  kept  his  word.  Perhaps  he 
remembered  that  when  he  arrived  at  Rome,  a  friendless. 


APPENDIX.  323 


youth,  his  first  patron  had  been  an  Englishman.  He  placed 
Gibson  in  his  studio,  and  gave  him  the  privilege  of  attend- 
ing his  night  academy,  where  the  students  were  the  most 
select  in  Rome,  and  were  exercised  in  modelling  from  life. 
Canova  attended  himself  as  director  twice  a  week,  and 
Gibson  never  missed  a  single  night  for  three  years. 
'  Then,'  said  he,  in  a  letter  we  are  allowed  to  quote,  '  then 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  received  such  instruction  as 
I  really  needed,  and  learned  the  practice  and  the  laws 
which  govern  sculpture.  The  compositions  I  had  executed 
in  Liverpool  were  the  productions  of  a  vivid  imagination 
which  knew  no  bounds.  All  the  designs  I  made  at  this 
time  were  to  be  within  those  rules  which  marble  demanded. 
It  was  then  I  found  how  limited  sculpture  is.' 

On  leaving  Canova's  studio,  he  set  up  for  himself  in  the 
Via  della  Fontanella.  There  the  writer  of  this  memoir 
found  him  at  work  in  the  year  1821  on  his  beautiful  group 
of  '  Psyche  borne  by  the  Zephyrs.'  In  the  self-same  studio 
he  was  found  twenty-six  years  afterwards,  modelling  the 
exquisite  bas-relief  of  the  '  Hours  leading  forth  the  Horses 
of  the  Sun.'  There  was  something  inexpressibly  touching, 
and  elevating  too,  in  this  sense  of  progress  without  change  ; 
all  appeared  the  same  in  that  modest,  quiet  little  room, 
but  around  it  extended  lofty  and  ample  ateliers  crowded 
with  models  of  works,  already  executed  or  in  progress,  and 
with  workmen,  assistants,  students,  visitors.  The  sculptor 
himself — perhaps  a  little  sobered  by  years,  but  unspoiled 
by  praise  and  prosperity,  pleased  with  his  success,  and 
still  aspiring,  with  no  alloy  of  mean  aims  or  personal  vanity 
mingling  with  the  intense  appreciation  of  fame — appeared, 
and  was,  the  same  benign,  simple-minded,  and  simple- 
hearted  enthusiast  in  his  art,  as  when  he  stood  before 
Roscoe,  an  unknown  youth, 

And  felt  that  he  was  greater  than  he  knew. 
Y  2 


324  APPENDIX. 


But  little  now  remains  to  be  told.  One  day,  when  model- 
ling his  group  of  '  Mars  and  Cupid,'  a  tall  young  man 
entered  his  studio.  'Are  you  Mr.  Gibson?'  'Yes,  sir.' 
The  stranger  modestly  announced  himself,  '  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire.'  '  Canova  has  sent  me  to  see  what  you  are 
modelling.'  The  Duke  looked  and  admired ;  and,  not 
content  with  admiring,  ordered  the  group  in  marble.  It 
is  now  at  Chatsworth.  This  was  the  first  commission 
Gibson  received  at  Rome  ;  and  the  Duke  may  now  recol- 
lect with  pleasure  that  he  made  a  happy  man  that  day. 
The  group  of  '  Psyche  and  the  Zephyrs '  was  first  executed 
in  marble  for  Sir  George  Beaumont,  and  has  since  been 
repeated  for  the  Hereditary  Grand  Duke  of  Russia  and 
Prince  Torlonia. 

Among  the  drawings  he  showed  to  Canova,  there  was 
a  sketch  of  the  meeting  of  '  Hero  and  Leander,'  made  for 
his  kind  and  generous  patroness,  Mrs.  Robinson.  Canova, 
struck  by  the  grace  and  passionate  feeling  of  this  sketch, 
desired  him  to  model  it  in  bas-relief.  The  Duke  of 
Devonshire  ordered  this  also  in  marble,  and  it  now  adorns 
Chatsworth. 

After  the  death  of  his  '  noble  master,'  for  so  he  de- 
lighted to  style  Canova,  Gibson  placed  himself  under  the 
direction  of  Thorwaldsen  ;  and,  aided  by  the  instructions 
of  this  admirable  artist,  and  by  his  own  manly  and  moral 
sense,  he  has  shown  that  he  could  emulate  the  grace  and 
elegance,  without  being  led  into  the  faults,  of  his  first  in- 
structor. Quick  to  observe  and  to  appreciate  nature, 
he  chooses  his  models  well.  A  casual  action  or  expression 
caught  in  passing  through  the  streets  of  Rome  has  sug- 
gested some  of  his  happiest  conceptions  ; l  while,  through 

1  We  have  heard  Gibson  mention  his  '  Wounded  Amazon  falling 
from  her  Horse,'  the  group  in  bas-relief  of  'Jocasta  parting  her 
Angry  Sons,'  the  '  Nymph  dancing  the  Cupid  on  her  Foot,'  as  in- 
stances oT  natural  action  casually  observed,  and  afterwards  adapted  to 
the  most  poetical  purposes. 


APPENDIX.  325 


a  genuine  poetical  sympathy  with  all  manifestations  of 
feeling  and  power,  he  imparts  to  the  purest  lines  of  form 
a  degree  of  character  and  purpose  which  is  usually  thought 
to  interfere  with  abstract  beauty.  Though  this  is  a  case  in 
which  certain  comparisons  are  odious,  and  Gibson  himself 
would  not  willingly  accept  a  compliment  at  the  expense  of 
his  'noble  master,'  yet  we  must  be  allowed  to  illustrate 
our  position  by  an  example.  Of  the  ideal  heads  which 
Canova  sent  out  by  dozens  from  his  studio,  under  the 
names  of  Beatrice,  Laura,  Psyche,  Urania,  Vestal  Virgins, 
and  so  forth,  who  could  distinguish  one  from  another  ?  If 
we  asked  which  is  Laura  ?  which  is  Beatrice  ?  we  almost 
expected  the  showman's  answer,  '  Which  you  please,  sir, 
which  you  please  ! '  It  has  been  said  in  excuse  for  Canova's 
vapid  heads,  with  their  perpetual  straight  noses,  short 
upper  lips,  and  sensual  mouths,  that  Greek  art  did  not  aim, 
ought  not  to  aim,  at  characteristic  physiognomy. 

One  day,  on  entering  Gibson's  studio,  there  was  a  bust 
recently  finished  standing  on  its  pedestal.  '  Helen  of 
Troy,'  we  exclaimed,  and  it  was  Helen.  .The  first  glance 
brought  her  to  mind  with  all  her  fatal  loveliness,  and  with 
a  look  as  though  she  felt  and  knew  how  fatal.  Again,  we 
remember  two  heads  of  '  Cupid  and  Psyche,'  now  in  the 
possession  of  Mrs.  Huskisson,  perfect  in  truth  of  individual 
expression,  combined  with  exquisite  beauty.  The  divine 
ardent  boy,  the  tender  innocent  girl,  not  yet  translated  to 
the  heaven  she  bought  so  dearly,  are  rendered  with  the 
utmost  delicacy  of  feeling,  and  nothing  can  exceed  the 
finish  of  the  marble,  particularly  in  the  '  Psyche.' 

We  have  not  space  to  give  a  catalogue  of  the  works 
with  which  Gibson  has  enriched  the  palaces  of  his  native 
land,  and  more  particularly  of  his  native  place,  if  we  may 
so  call  Liverpool,  which  insists  on  claiming  him  for  her 
own  ;  but  we  may  mention  a  few  of  the  most  striking  and 
important.  In  poetic  art,  one  of  the  most  beautiful — to 


3z6    '..  APPENDIX. 


our  thought  the  most  beautiful — of  all  his  creations,  is 
the  Cupi^  standing  with  a  butterfly  on  his  hand,  and  in 
the  act  of  drawing  an  arrow  wherewith  to  transfix  it.  This 
statue  was  executed  for  Lord  Selsey,  and  duplicates  are 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Richard  Yates,  of  Liverpool,  and 
Mr.  Holford.  The  '  Cupid  disguised  as  a  Shepherd  Boy,' 
less  ideal  as  a  conception,  but  exquisite  for  its  graceful 
archness  and  simplicity,  has  been  more  popular.  It  was 
executed  for  the  Hereditary  Grand  Duke  of  Russia,  and 
the  artist  has  had  to  repeat  it  at  least  seven  times ;  we 
recollect  to  have  seen  it  in  the  mansion  of  Sir  Robert  Peel, 
and  in  that  of  Mr.  Appleton,  of  Boston. 

The  '  Hebe '  winged,  and  bearing  her  two  ewers,  has 
the  chaste  loveliness  becoming  the  goddess,  'Jove's  daugh- 
ter,' as  well  as  his  cup-bearer ;  we  believe,  but  are  not 
sure,  that  this  statue  belongs  to  Mr.  Henry  Sandbach,  of 
Liverpool,  who  possesses  also  the  '  Greek  Hunter'  and  the 
'  Aurora."  '  The  Sleeping  Shepherd,'  which  would  be  a 
beautiful  companion  for  Thorwaldsen's  '  Piping  Shepherd,' 
was  executed  for  Lord  George  Cavendish,  and  repeated 
for  the  present  Duke  of  Northumberland.  The  '  Sappho,' 
standing  forsaken,  her  head  declined,  her  lyre  unstrung 
and  drooping  from  her  hand,  is  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Ellams,  of  Liverpool.  The  '  Proserpina,'  gathering  flowers 
at  the  moment  she  is  surprised  by  the  '  gloomy  Dis,'  was 
executed  for  Dwarkanath  Tagore,  of  Calcutta. 

Of  his  bas-reliefs,  perhaps  the  compositions  more  re- 
markable for  true  antique  spirit  are  the  '  Amalthea  feeding 
the  Infant  Jupiter,'  in  the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  ; 
and  '  Hebe  pouring  out  Nectar  for  Psyche  '  (we  know  not 
where  the  marble  is)  ;  for  melancholy  grace  the  '  Wounded 
Amazon  leading  her  Horse,'  now  in  the  possession  of  Mrs. 
Huskisson  ;  and  for  flowing  animated  grace  of  motion, 
really  like  music  to  the  eye,  '  The  Hours  leading  forth  the 
Horses  of  the  Sun,'  lately  executed  for  Lord  Fitzwilliam, 


APPENDIX,  327 


and   which   we    may  hope   to   see    in  this  year's   Exhi- 
bition. 

Among  his  portrait  statues,  the  precedence  must  be 
given  to  that  of  her  Majesty,  of  which  an  engraving  is 
here  introduced.1  When  Gibson  visited  England  in  1844, 
for  the  first  time  after  an  absence  of  twenty-eight  years,  the 
Queen  sent  for  him,  and  commanded  a  statue  of  herself, 
intimating  at  the  same  time  a  desire  that  the  '  statue  should 
be  a  faithful  portrait,  such  as  her  children  should  recognise, 
and  calculated  for  a  room  in  the  palace,  not  for  any  public 
institution."  All  the  rest,  and  the  manner  of  carrying  out 
her  wishes,  the  Queen  with  excellent  sense  and  taste  left 
to  the  sculptor,  as  best  understanding  the  capabilities  of 
his  own  art.  The  engraving  will  give  an  idea  of  the  pose, 
which  has  a  gentle  yet  noble  tranquillity,  free  from  all 
manner  or  assumption.  The  head  and  bust  were  modelled 
from  life,  and  also  the  beautiful  hand  and  arm,  extended 
with  the  wreath — the  civic  crown.  The  drapery  is,  of 
course,  ideal,  and  admirably  managed.  The  tassels  of  the 
mantle  are  acorns  ;  and  the  rose,  thistle,  and  shamrock 
are  happily  combined  with  a  classical  ornament  at  the 
corners.  To  bring  the  pale  cold  marble  into  harmony  with 
'the  interior  decoration  of  a  palace  sumptuous  with  gold 
and  colour,  the  artist  tried  the  effect  of  a  slight  and  very 
delicate  tint  (pale  rose  and  pale  azure)  carried  round  the 
edge  of  the  drapery,  the  wreath  and  the  bracelet  being 

1  Mr.  Gibson  has  favoured  us  with  the  following  remarks  respecting 
his  statue  of  the  Queen.  '  After  an  absence  of  twenty-eight  years,  I 
visited  England  in  the  summer  of  1844.  During  my  stay  in  London, 
I  had  the  honour  of  receiving  a  notice  to  attend  at  Windsor  by  com- 
mand of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen.  His  Royal  Highness  Prince  Albert 
received  me  most  graciously,  and  made  known  to  me  that  the  Queen 
wished  to  have  her  statue  executed  by  me.  The  bust  was  modelled  at 
Windsor,  and  her  Majesty  sat  every  day  for  ten  days.  The  statue 
was  executed  at  Rome,'  and  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  in  1847. 
A  duplicate  of  the  work  is  now  in  progress  for  the  Queen. 


328  APPENDIX. 


also  tinted  with  gold  colour,  not* gilt.  This  experiment 
could  not  be  called  an  innovation,  for  everyone  knows  that 
the  Greeks  occasionally  coloured  their  statues.  Yet  at 
first  there  was  a  feeling  of  doubt  and  apprehension,  a  dif- 
ference of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  propriety  of  making 
the  trial  at  all.  It  was  argued  that  if  once  the  introduction 
of  colour  was  allowed  in  sculpture,  it  could  only  be  under 
the  guidance  of  the  purest  and  most  refined  taste  ;  that 
the  least  excess,  the  least  mistake  in  the  application,  must 
be  fatal ;  and  this  is  true.  However^  the  question  of  colour 
in  Greek  art  is  one  which  involves  such  deep  considerations 
of  climate,  light,  subject,  situation,  style,  &c.,  that  we  cannot 
enter  upon  it  at  present ;  and  in  this  particular  instance 
the  objection  is  set  at  rest  by  the  admitted  success  of  the 
experiment,  the  effect  being  in  the  highest  degree  elegant 
to  the  taste  and  satisfactory  to  the  eye  ;  while  to  those  who 
have  deeply  studied  the  various  styles  of  Grecian  art  it 
gives  pleasure,  as  an  illustration  of  the  principles  on  which 
they  worked.  This  statue  is  now  placed  in  a  vestibule  at. 
the  top  of  the  grand  staircase  in  Buckingham  Palace.  A 
second  statue  of  Her  Majesty,  somewhat  different  in  pose 
and  arrangement,  has  been  executed  by  Gibson  for  the 
new  House  of  Lords,  destined,  it  is  said,  for  the  Princes' 
Chamber. 

The  statue  of  Mr.  Huskisson,  the  great  and  lamented 
statesman,  was  executed  some  years  before  that  of  the 
Queen,  and  was,  we  believe,  the  first  portrait  statue  under- 
taken by  Mr.  Gibson.  It  was  a  commission  from  the 
gentlemen  appointed  to  carry  out  the  object  of  a  subscrip- 
tion entered  into  by  the  merchants  of  Liverpool  and  hun- 
dreds of  other  persons  of  all  classes  and  in  every  part  of 
England,  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  memorial  of  their 
respect  and  admiration  of  the  dead  in  the  open  cemetery 
where  he  is  buried.  A  small  Greek  temple  is  placed  over 
the  spot,  and  within  it  the  statue  of  the  patriot  and  states- 


APPENDIX.  329 


man.  He  stands  holding  a  roll  of  paper  in  both  hands  ; 
a  grand,  simple,  placid  figure,  well  suited  to  its  destination 
as  a  votive  rather  than  a  monumental  statue.  Some  years 
afterwards,  the  subscribers  to  the  statue  wished  to  remove 
it  from  a  situation  difficult  of  access,  where  few  of  the 
townsmen,  and  yet  fewer  strangers,  had  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  it,  and  to  place  it  under  the  central  dome  of  the 
new  Custom  House,  then  in  course  of  erection.  The  wish 
was  natural  enough.  The  situation  was  most  appropriate 
for  a  memorial  of  the  man  whose  large  heart  and  enlight- 
ened mind  had  conceived  and  promulgated  a  new  order  of 
things  in  the  commercial  relations  of  the  civilised  world. 
The  subscribers  had  no  doubt  a  right  to  do  their  pleasure  ; 
but  it  was  also  natural  that  the  idea  of  this  removal — this 
disturbance  of  a  consecrated  spot — should  be  most  painful 
and  repulsive  to  the  hearts  of  some  who  survived  him. 
It  was  a  dilemma  involving  some  feelings  still  too  keen 
and  far  too  sacred  to  be  touched  upon-  here.  Finally,  the 
widow  of  Mr.  Huskisson  offered  to  present  another  statue 
to  the  town,  on  condition  that  the  monumental  statue  should 
remain  undisturbed,  and  her  offer  was  accepted.  To 
Gibson,  who  had  so  well  succeeded  in  the  first  statue,  this 
second  commission  was  given.  He  changed,  and,  as  far  as 
purpose  is  concerned,  he  improved,  the  leading  idea.  The 
patriot  and  orator  stands  as  in  deep  thought,  the  head  a 
little  inclined,  one  arm  slightly  raised,  as  if  about  to  lay 
down  a  proposition  or  enforce  an  argument.  When  this 
statue  was  completed,  it  was  found  that  a  change  in  the 
architectural  arrangement  of  the  building  rendered  it  im- 
possible to  place  it  in  the  situation  for  which  it  was  origin- 
ally intended,  and  for  which  the  artistic  conception  had 
been  expressly  adopted.  Mrs.  Huskisson  therefore  with- 
drew the  marble  statue  and  replaced  it  by  a  duplicate  made 
in  bronze,  the  first  of  Gibson's  works  which  had  been  exe- 
cuted in  that  material ;  and  it  now  stands  in  the  open 


330  APPENDIX, 


square  in  front  of  the  new  Custom  House ;  it  was  in- 
augurated on  October  15,  1847,  in  the  presence  of  Sir 
Robert  Peel,  and  at  the  public  dinner  afterwards  given  the 
health  of  Gibson  was  given  by  Sir  Robert,  and  drunk  with 
acclamation.  The  marble  was  presented  by  Mrs.  Huskisson 
to  the  London  Royal  Exchange,  and  it  now  stands  in  the 
great  room  at  Lloyd's. 

Another  portrait  statue  of  exceeding  elegance  is  that 
of  Mrs.  Murray,  executed  at  Rome  for  her  mother,  the 
Baroness  Braye;  it  was  exhibited  here  in  1846. 

We  have  not  space  to  enumerate  his  monumental  bas- 
reliefs,  chiefly  executed  for  his  Liverpool  friends.  One  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  expressive  is  the  '  Angel  of  Hope/ 
a  tablet  executed  for  Mrs.  Henry  Sandbach,  of  Liverpool 
(the  subject  we  believe  suggested  by  herself),  for  the  monu- 
ment of  this  lady's  mother.  The  tablet,  nearly  life  size, 
to  the  memory  of  the  late  Lady  Leicester,  who  died  in  child- 
birth, is  also  of  consummate  beauty ;  an  angel  conducts 
the  mother  and  her  child  to  heaven,  and  the  mother  appears 
to  follow  her  child,  as  it  lies  in  the  arms  of  the  angel. 

'  If  you  will  not  restore  it,  take  me  also  ! '  is  the  senti- 
ment conveyed. 

It  has  been  to  Gibson  a  source  of  most  painful  regret, 
that  his  absence  from  England  prevented  him  from  solicit- 
ing in  time  the  privilege  of  doing  honour  to  the  memory 
of  his  revered  and  generous  friend  Roscoe.  The  commis- 
sion for  the  monument  had  already  been  given  to  Chantrey. 

We  cannot  better  conclude  this  brief  memoir  than  by 
quoting  a  few  sentences  from  the  dedication  to  Gibson 
which  Sir  Lytton  Bulwer  has  prefixed  to  the  last  edition 
of  his  '  Zanoni,'  the  true,  eloquent,  noble-hearted  homage 
of  one  man  of  genius  to  another — of  the  poet  to  the  artist. 
After  premising  that  in  the  circle  of  great  living  English- 
men '  he  knew  no  one  to  whom  his  work  could  be  more 
fitly  dedicated,'  he  thus  proceeds: 


APPENDIX.  331 


'  Apart  from  our  turbulent  cabals — from  the  ignoble 
jealousy  and  the  sordid  strife,  which  degrade  and  acerbate 
the  ambition  of  genius — in  your  Roman  home  you  have 
lived  amidst  all  that  is  loveliest  and  least  perishable  in  the 
past,  and  contributed  with  the  noblest  aims  and  in  the 
purest  spirit  to  the  mighty  heirlooms  of  the  future.  Your 
youth  has  been  consecrated  to  toil,  that  your  manhood  may 
be  devoted  to  fame,  a  fame  unsullied  by  one  desire  of  gold. 
You  have  escaped  the  two  worst  perils  that  beset  the  artist 
in  our  time  and  land — the  debasing  tendencies  of  com- 
merce, and  the  angry  rivalries  of  competition.  You  have 
not  wrought  your  marble  for  the  market ;  you  have  not 
been  tempted  by  the  praises  which  our  vicious  criticism 
has  showered  upon  exaggeration  and  distortion,  to  lower 
your  taste  to  the  level  of  the  hour  ;  you  have  lived  and 
you  have  laboured  as  if  you  had  no  rivals  but  in  the  dead, 
no  purchasers  save  in  judges  of  what  is  best.  In  the 
divine  priesthood  of  the  beautiful,  you  have  sought  only  to 
increase  her  worshippers  and  enrich  her  temples.  Each 
work  of  yours  rightly  studied  is  in  itself  a  criticism,  illus- 
trating the  sublime  secrets  of  the  Grecian  art,  which,  with- 
out the  servility  of  plagiarism,  you  have  contributed  to 
revive  amongst  us.  In  you  we  behold  its  three  great  and 
long  undetected  principles — simplicity,  calm,  and  concen- 
tration. But  your  admiration  of  the  Greeks  has  not  led 
you  to  the  bigotry  of  the  mere  antiquarian,  nor  made  you 
less  sensible  of  the  unappreciated  excellence  of  the  mighty 
modern,  worthy  to  be  your  countryman,  though,  till  his 
statue  is  in  the  streets  of  our  capital,  we  show  ourselves 
not  worthy  of  the  glory  he  has  shed  upon  our  land.  You 
have  not  suffered  even  your  gratitude  to  Canova  to  blind 
you  to  the  superiority  of  Flaxman.  When  we  become 
sensible  of  our  title-deeds  to  renown  in  that  single  name, 
we  may  look  for  an  English  public  capable  of  real  patron- 
age to  English  art — and  not  till  then.' 


332  APPENDIX. 


II.     SOME  THOUGHTS   ON  ART, 

ADDRESSED  TO  THE  UNINITIATED.1 
BY  MRS.  JAMESON. 

A  series  of  very  beautiful  engravings  from  the  finest 
works  of  modern,  and  particularly  of  English  sculptors,  is 
to  appear  successively  in  this  journal,  and  I  have  been 
requested  to  say  something  '  germane  to  the  matter ' — 
something  of  the  present  state  of  sculpture  with  reference 
to  art  generally. 

I  wish  I  could  do  this  worthily  ;  I  wish  I  could  ven- 
ture to  place  myself  between  the  public  and  the  artist,  as 
a  sort  of  interpreter  in  an  humble  way,  not  to  discuss  criti- 
cally the  beauties  of  the  art  or  the  merits  of  the  artist — 
easy  work  comparatively — but  rather  to  point  out  and  to 
explain  some  of  those  common-place  difficulties  and  popu- 
lar mistakes  which  seem  likely  to  arise  in  the  present  state 
of  things.  For  the  patrons  of  art  are  not  now,  like  the 
dilettanti  and  cognoscenti  of  the  last  century,  to  be  counted 
as  the  select  few;  they  are  the  many — the  million; — 
we  are  to  have  art,  it  seems,  for  the  million.  Now  it  is 
certain  that  this  diffusion,  through  all  ranks,  of  the  love  of 
ornament  and  beauty  will  not  raise  the  standard  of  excel- 
ence — that  was  fixed  some  two  thousand  years  ago  in  the 
days  of  Phidias — but  it  will  raise  the  standard  in  every 
individual  mind ;  it  will  bring  home  and  illustrate  to  the 
popular  apprehension,  those  principles,  eternal  and  immu- 

1  From  the  Art  Journal^  March  i,  1849. 


APPENDIX. 


333 


table  as  the  law  of  Nature  herself,  on  which  that  eternal 
standard  is  founded.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  believe 
that  excellence  will  become  less  excellent  by  being  dif- 
fused, or  that  the  sense  of  the  true,  the  beautiful,  the  pure, 
will  become  less  valuable  by  being  rendered  more  familiar 
— indispensable  to  the  sentient  being  as  love,  light,  and  air. 
All  human  sympathies  flowing  in  a  right  direction — and  in 
art,  as  in  morals,  there  is  a  right  and  a  wrong — gather 
strength  as  they  flow  by  the  confluence  of  many  minds. 
It  is  some  comfort  that  we  do  not  see  in  these  days — at  least 
we  do  not  so  often  see — that  pretension  to  the  exclusive 
right  to  feel  and  discriminate,  that  mingled  scorn  and  de- 
spair with  which  the  real  lover  and  judge  of  art  was  wont 
to  regard  the  ignorant  blunderings  of  public  patronage ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  I  think  we  have  outlived  that  truly 
vulgar  error,  so  flattering  to  indolent  mediocrity,  that  '  in 
matters  of  art,  every  man  with  two  good  eyes  in  his  head 
is  competent  to  see  ; '  whereas,  where  art  is  concerned,  the 
faculty  of  seeing  becomes  in  itself  an  art !  Yes,  it  is  a 
good  sign  when  the  worshipful  many  are  beginning  to  feel 
that  the  fine  arts  are  not  merely  imitative,  but  involve  some- 
thing more,  and  far  beyond  imitation ;  it  is  a  good  sign 
when  a  man  is  no  longer  affronted  by  a  doubt  of  his  power, 
and  even  of  his  right  of  judgment,  and  has  candour  enough 
to  wish  to  educate  his  perceptions  up  to  that  point  where 
the  just  appreciation  of  comparative  excellence  first  unfolds 
itself  to  the  delighted  intellect.  It  were  too  much  to  ex- 
pect to  find  developed  alike  in  all  the  instinctive  sense  of 
beauty  in  art,  or  the  capacity  for  enjoying  its  manifesta- 
tions. No  popularising  of  art  will  ever  equalise  the  power 
to  feel  and  to  judge  of  art ;  but  we  may  hope  that  the 
multiplication  and  diffusion  of  objects  through  which  the 
taste  is  exercised  will  tend  to  facilitate  comparison  and 
quicken  sensibility.  Too  long  has  a  degraded  taste  on 
the  part  of  the  public  tended  to  degrade  the  artist,  who, 


334  APPENDIX. 


from  want  of  conscience  or  from  want  of  bread,  becomes 
subservient  to  the  ignorance  or  caprice  which  he  regards 
with  secret  contempt,  and  too  long  has  patronage  dic- 
tated where  it  ought  to  learn.  The  effect  has  been  de- 
moralising on  both  sides.  In  the  gifted  man  of  genius  I 
have  seen  it  produce  absolute  deterioration  of  character, 
and  end  in  a  want  of  truth  towards  others,  of  respect  for 
himself  and  his  art,  and  of  faith  in  the  high  aims  which 
had  once  sanctified  his  ambition  ;  whilst  the  subserviency 
of  him  who  ought  to  be  the  teacher,  has  altogether 
blinded  the  patron  to  the  true  relation  between  them';  so 
instead  of  mutual  help,  gratitude,  reverence,  we  have 
self-assurance,  caprice,  and  a  bargaining  meanness  on  the 
one  side — silent,  contemptuous  heartburning  on  the  other. 
It  has  been  remarked  with  truth  that  public  opinion 
always  comes  right  in  the  long  run — that  it  never  fails 
in  time  to  recognise  the  truly  excellent — that  it  never 
fails  in  time  to  bring  to  its  due  level  that  which  it  has 
immeasurably  exalted.  I  have  since  my  childhood  known 
four  of  the  most  celebrated  artists  who  have  lived  in 
modern  times — Flaxman,  Canova,  Chantrey,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence.  They  are  gone  ;  the  grave  has  closed 
over  all.  I  can  speak  of  them  now  as  minds,  not  men. 
Of  these  four,  the  one  who  had,  whilst  living,  the  least 
reputation  was  certainly  Flaxman.  Yet  he  it  was  who 
took  the  highest  ground ;  we  have  since  been  working  up 
to  him,  and  every  day,  every  hour,  we  become  more  sen- 
sible of  his  true  artistic  greatness  ;  whilst,  I  believe,  it  is 
pretty  generally  admitted  that  the  others  during  their  life- 
time were  overrated  ;  that  Canova  could  be  feeble  and 
effeminate  ;  that  Chantrey  and  Sir  Thomas  were  below  par 
in  creative  art.  Such  is  the  wide  difference  between  re- 
putation and  fame.  The  better  a  public  are  educated, 
the  sooner  will  such  justification  take  place  ;  the  less  will 
fashion  usurp  the  part  of  taste  ;  the  less  we  shall  hear 


APPENDIX. 


335 


of  people  deciding  in  a  cavalier  manner  on  subjects,  for  the 
right  understanding  of  which  an  almost  lifelong  education 
is  necessary. 

When  in  the  last  century  a  cause  relative  to  the  piracy 
of  a  print  was  tried  before  one  of  our  judges  (Lord 
Kenyon,  I  believe),  the  evidence  relative  to  critical  discri- 
mination in  the  degree  of  merit  in  the  original  and  the 
copy,  the  variety  of  opinions  and  arguments,  astonished 
and  somewhat  perplexed  both  judge  and  jury.  Lord 
Kenyon,  in  summing  up,  expressed  his  regret  that  he  had 
lived  all  his  life  without  an  idea  of  some  of  the  points 
which  had  been  brought  forward,  and  his  conviction  '  that 
there  was  more  in  those  things  than  he  had  ever  con- 
ceived before.'  Now  there  are  many  in  the  same  case  with 
this  most  wise  and  candid  judge — many  who,  like  him, 
have  passed  through  a  long  life  of  various  and  dignified 
pursuits  without  having  given  a  moment's  thought  to  the 
conditions  of  beauty  which  enter  into  a  print,  a  picture, 
or  a  statue,  and  may  be  suddenly  wakened  up  to  a  per- 
ception '  that  there  is  more  in  these  things  than  they 
ever  conceived  before.' 

A  state  of  profound  peace  has  generally  been  con- 
sidered as  favourable  to  the  development  of  the  arts, 
yet  where  the  clash  of  social  interests  has  roused  to  un- 
wonted activity  the  intellects  and  imaginations  of  men,  it 
has  been  good  in  the  long  run  for  those  who,  standing  apart 
from  the  tumult,  yet  feel  it  react  upon  them.  High  deeds 
must  be  done  before  the  poet  can  sing  them,  or  the  artist 
commemorate  them  ;  and  where  grand  stirring  influences 
all  the  mind  of  the  people,  they  become  not  less,  but 
more,  alive  to  the  forms  in  which  their  sensations,  so  to 
speak,  are  reproduced  to  themselves.  We  see  this  in  the 
history  of  the  great  republics  of  Greece  and  Italy,  in 
distracted  Athens,  in  more  distracted  Florence.  May  not 
these  present  days  of  revolutions,  and  wars,  and  famines, 


336  APPENDIX. 


and  gold-seeking,  be  succeeded  by  the  days  of  artistic 
creation  in  new  forms  ?  Even  now,  more  is  written 
and  thought  about  art,  more  encouragement  given  to 
artists  generally,  than  at  any  period  in  the  history  of  our 
community.  Not  only  is  there  an  increasing  demand  for 
the  higher  productions  of  mind  and  skill,  but  in  the  mere 
objects  of  luxury,  ornament  and  utility,  art  and  artists  are 
put  in  requisition.  We  call  for  an  architect  where  we  for- 
merly employed  a  bricklayer,  and  our  house-painters  are  ac- 
complished in  the  theoretical  harmony  of  lines  and  colours. 

This  is  more  particularly  the  case  with  the  plastic  arts. 
Under  this  term  we  comprehend  all  imitation  of  form,  from 
the  expression  of  ideal  beauty  and  lofty  sentiment,  the 
godlike  and  the  spiritual  under  the  human  semblance  set 
forth  in  enduring  marble  or  more  enduring  bronze,  down 
to  the  bisque  statuette  on  the  chimney,  the  vase  or  ewer  on 
the  tea-table,  or  the  arabesque  frieze  to  decorate  our  rooms. 

This  passion  and  fashion  for  works  of  beauty  and 
decoration  has  been  growing  among  us,  assisted  by  many 
causes.  The  invention  of  most  ingenious  mechanical  pro- 
cesses, by  which  the  magnificent  remains  of  antiquity  and 
the  productions  of  living  artists  may  be  reproduced  with 
marvellous  delicacy  and  exactitude,  and  of  other  processes 
by  which  ornamental  carving  and  casting  from  faultless 
models  may  be  executed  at  a  trifling  expense,  the  perfec- 
tion to  which  modern  chemical  science  has  brought  the 
finest  preparations  of  clay,  as  bisque  and  terra-cotta, 
together  with  the  application  of  new  materials,  gutta-percha 
for  instance,  to  the  purposes  of  art  ;  and  though  last,  not 
least,  the  institution  of  schools  of  design  all  over  the 
country — all  these  have  combined  to  assist  by  mechanical 
means  the  multiplication  of  what  the  French  call ' objets 
de  goiit  et  de  luxe.  That  this  growing  taste  may  not  be 
vulgarised,  is  a  matter  of  great  importance.  We  may  en- 
tertain the  deepest  sympathy  for  the  artist  struggling  to  live 


APPENDIX.  337 


by  the  proceeds  of  that  art  to  which  he  has  given  his  life, 
and  applaud  the  efforts  made  by  public  means  to  render 
his  works  known  and  give  him  a  fair  chance  for  reputation 
(it  is  not  for  one  generation  to  give  fame).  But  let  it  ever 
be  borne  in  mind  that  we  best  assist  our  native  artists  by 
placing  before  them  and  the  public,  who  is  to  judge  them, 
in  every  possible  form,  those  productions  which  bear  the 
stamp  of  original  greatness,  and  have  been  consecrated  by 
the  admiration  of  successive  generations  of  men  ;  things 
which  exist  at  a  distance,  or  have  become  so  rare  and  so 
expensive  that  they  are  locked  up  in  national  collections 
or  in  the  portfolios  of  amateurs.  On  these  the  principles 
of  art  are  founded,  or  rather  by  these  they  are  illustrated, 
for  these  lead  us  back  to  nature,  pure  nature,  which  is  only 
another  name  for  the  pure  ideal,  and  whence  all  must  pro- 
ceed which  is  to  endure  through  the  vicissitudes  of  con- 
ventional manners  and  modes  of  thought. 

This  is  the  main  object  of  a  society  lately  instituted— 
the  Arundel  Society.  Between  this  society  and  one  begun 
some  years  ago  for  the  encouragement  of  modern  art  and 
native  artists,  there  should  be  no  rivalry — rather  the  most 
close  and  friendly  co-operation.  Every  help  to  the  know- 
ledge of  genuine  art  is  a  help  to  the  living  artist ;  and 
only  the  meanest,  narrowest,  and  most  short-sighted  views 
would  make  a  man  think  otherwise. 

The  result  of  all  this,  and  what  I  would  inculcate  by 
every  means  in  my  power,  is  that  a  knowledge  of  the  just 
theory  of  the  imitative  arts  might  well  form  a  part  of  the 
education  of  the  young,  and  particularly,  I  think,  of  young 
women.  It  is  not  very  intelligible  why  so  much  pains 
should  be  taken  to  initiate  a  girl  into  a  knowledge  of  the 
theory  of  music — to  cultivate  her  taste  for  it  by  concerts, 
private  and  public,  even  where  proficiency  in  the  art,  as  an 
art,  is  out  of  the  question — and,  at  the  same  time,  leave 
her  in  the  most  pitiable  ignorance,  or  abandon  her  to  self- 

z 


338  APPENDIX. 


culture  with  regard  to  the  elementary  principles  of  the 
other  fine  arts,  on  which,  nevertheless,  she  is  called  in  a 
thousand  ways  to  exercise  her  faculties.  Really  it  seems 
ridiculous,  when  one  thinks  of  it,  that  a  girl  should  be 
taught  the  elements  of  natural  philosophy  and  chemistry, 
be  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  nature,  while  the  laws  which 
regulate  the  harmony  and  proportion  of  her  visible  forms 
remain  a  sealed  book.  Superficial  knowledge  of  all  kinds 
is  the  perdition  of  women,  and  a  superficial  taste  in  the 
fine  arts  leads  them  into  that  perverted  and  frivolous 
taste  for  mere  prettiness  which  is  destructive  to  the  best 
interests  of  the  best  artists  among  us. 

The  faculty  of  delight  in  beauty  needs  to  be  educated 
like  all  our  faculties,  and  I  wish  Miss  Martineau  had  said 
something  upon  the  subject  in  her  admirable  little  treatise 
on  household  education.  We  know  that  women  have  written 
very  sensible  and  elegant  letters,  with  but  little  knowledge 
either  of  orthography  or  syntax,  yet  no  one,  I  suppose, 
argues  that  a  woman  has  therefore  no  need  to  study  spell- 
ing or  grammar.  A  knowledge  of  thorough  bass  and  of 
elementary  physics  now  enters  into  every  liberal  scheme  of 
female  education.  Why,  therefore,  should  not  some  atten- 
tion be  paid  to  the  elementary  principles  of  the  fine  arts  ? 
Why  should  not  the  best  models  of  each  be  early  placed 
before  a  young  girl,  and  their  comparative  excellence 
pointed  out  to  her  attention  ?  What  a  source  of  innocent 
enjoyment  it  would  open  to  innocent  minds  at  that  age 
when  the  faculties  are  athirst  for  pleasurable  sensation  !  A 
landscape  painter  once  told  me  that,  sitting  down  on  some 
occasion  to  make  a  study  of  foliage,  his  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  a  group  of  feathery  grass  and  weeds  by  the 
hedge-side,  and  he  was  so  touched  by  the  inexpressible 
grace  with  which  nature  had  thrown  together  their  flowing 
lines  and  graceful  forms,  that  he  sat  for  many  moments 
contemplating  them  without  venturing  to  put  his  pencil  to 


APPENDIX. 


339 


the  paper,  until  he  felt  his  eyes  moisten  with  devout 
admiration  and  love  !  It  is  in  truth  one  of  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages of  a  cultivated  taste  in  art,  that  it  multiplies  a 
thousandfold  our  enjoyment  in  the  beauties  of  nature  ; 
wakes  up  our  attention  to  innumerable  minute  and  tran- 
sient effects  of  grace  which  we  should  otherwise  pass  by 
unperceived.  We  do,  indeed,  meet  with  persons  who  have 
a  good  deal  of  connoisseurs/tip,  of  whose  morals  we  cannot 
think  very  highly,  but  we  soon  learn  to  distinguish  this  sort 
of  merely  conventional  taste  from  that  really  purified  per- 
ception of  the  beautiful  which  leads  us  through  the  love  of 
art  to  the  love  of  Nature  and  from  Nature  up  to  God. 

But  I  must  not  be  tempted  from  the  original  purpose 
of  this  essay.  Everyone  admits  that  a  just  taste  in  art  is 
desirable  ;  no  one  denies  that  knowledge  is  better  than 
ignorance,  and  that  in  the  perception  of  fitness  and  beauty, 
as  well  as  the  perception  of  right  and  wrong,  it  may  be  as 
well  to  '  train  up  a  child  in  the  way  it  should  go.'  For  the 
present,  therefore,  I  will  notice  merely  a  few  of  the  com- 
monest mistakes,  committed  daily  from  that  want  of  feel- 
ing or  want  of  reflection  which,  in  matters  of  art,  goes  by 
the  general  name  of  want  of  taste.  To  the  knowledge  by 
which  they  are  to  be  avoided  or  rectified  there  is  no  royal 
road,  and  here  I  only  suggest  them  for  consideration,  and 
with  reference  more  particularly  to  one  of  the  fine  arts — 
sculpture. 

These  mistakes  are  of  two  kinds.  The  first  have  rela- 
tion to  the  external  conditions  of  a  work  of  art — its 
material,  size,  and  situation.  The  second  have  relation  to 
the  aesthetic  conditions  of  a  work  of  art,  as  the  design 
and  conception  of  the  subject ;  the  form  best  suited  to  it, 
whether  painting  or  sculpture  (for  observe  that  the  form 
is  distinct  from  the  material} ;  the  treatment,  as  regards 
the  grouping,  expression,  colour,  and  all  qualities  depending 

7.  2 


340  APPENDIX. 


on  the  mind  of  the  artist,  and  addressed  to  the  mind  of 
the  observer. 

The  material  in  sculpture  may  be  bronze,  marble,  stone, 
wood,  plaster,  terra-cotta,  shells  or  precious  stones,  &c.  Now 
everyone  who  would  judge  of  art  should  know  something 
of  the  inherent  capabilities  of  these  materials  and  their 
proper  application ;  for  they  cannot  be  used  indiscriminately 
for  all  subjects  and  purposes.  I  have  seen  strange  mis- 
takes made  by  persons  ordering  in  marble  what  could  only 
look  well  in  bronze.  But  why  ?  On  what  principle  shall 
a  particular  subject,  group,  or  figure,  look  ill  in  marble  and 
well  in  bronze  ?  It  is  not  here  the  relative  value  or  beauty 
of  the  material  which  is  in  question  ;  it  is  its  fitness.  It  is 
not  only  the  artist  or  the  artificer  who  should  be  able  to 
enter  into  these  considerations,  for  I  have  seen  the  artist's 
judgment  overruled,  either  because  he  could  not  clearly 
explain  in  words  principles  which  had  grown  up  in  his 
own  mind  with  his  mind,  or  that  no  explanation  could 
render  his  reasons  intelligible  where  the  faculties  of  atten- 
tion and  comparison  had  never  been  brought  to  bear  on 
such  points.  Hence  there  ensued  distrust,  vexation,  loss, 
and  disappointment. 

Size  is  another  of  these  conditions  which  is  of  great 
consequence.  Not  every  subject  which  looks  well  large, 
will  look  well  small ;  far  more  rarely  will  a  subject  grace- 
ful and  agreeable  of  a  small  size  endure  to  be  magnified. 
The  nature  of  the  subject  has  to  be  considered.  In  general, 
though  size  be  one  of  the  elements  of  the  sublime,  the 
really  sublime  and  ideal  work  of  art  loses  but  little  when 
reduced  in  dimension,  as  long  as  the  proportions  are  exactly 
attended  to.  You  can  have  colossal  proportions  and  god- 
like power  within  the  circumference  of  a  gem  for  the  finger, 
figures  and  groups  which  might  be  magnified  to  any  size, 
and  lose  nothing  either  in  delicacy  of  finish  or  delicacy  of 
expression ;  some  of  the  fine  Greek  bronzes  are  examples. 


APPENDIX.  341 


For  instance,  the  little  bronze  'Jupiter'  in  the  British 
Museum,  about  a  foot  in  height,  the  exquisite  little 
'  Mercury  '  not  more  than  six  inches  high,  are  at  hand  to 
testify  to  the  perfection  of  majesty  and  grace  in  diminutive 
forms.  On  the  other  hand,  picturesque  sculpture  will 
seldom  bear  to  be  magnified,  nor  will  any  subject  which  is 
merely  ornamental  or  conventional  in  the  treatment.  The 
pretty  statuette  of  '  The  Prince  of  Wales  as  a  Sailor,'  the 
little  figure  of  '  Fanny  Elssler '  dancing  the  '  Cachucha,' 
would  be  insufferable  if  enlarged  to  life-size.  There  is  a 
curious  law  too  by  which  size  and  material  act  on  each 
other ;  a  bust  or  a  statue  in  marble  of  the  exact  proportions 
of  life,  will  often  look  much  smaller  than  life.  Some 
thought  and  attention  are  due  therefore  to  the  conditions 
of  size. 

Then  as  to  situation.  I  say  nothing  here  of  those 
mental  associations,  which  should  always  influence  the 
selection  of  a  work  of  art,  with  reference  to  its  purpose, 
which  would  prevent  everyone  from  taking  down  a 
'  Nativity  '  from  an  altar  and  placing  it  over  a  sideboard, 
or  hanging  up  a  '  Massacre  of  the  Innocents  '  in  a  lady's 
boudoir.  I  would  merely  refer  to  those  physical  conditions 
by  which  a  work  of  art,  be  it  painting  or  sculpture,  is 
fitted  to  the  situation  it  occupies,  or  the  situation  fitted  for 
that  particular  object.  The  distance  at  which  it  is  to  be  seen, 
the  point  of  view,  the  degree  of  light  are  of  the  highest 
importance.  I  have  seen  ridiculous,  and,  as  regarded  the 
destinies  of  the  object,  fatal  mistakes  of  this  kind  com 
mitted  from  the  want  of  a  sense  of  adaptation,  or  from  not 
considering  how  far  a  work  of  art  executed  for  a  particular 
locality  can  bear  removal  to  another.  For  example,  the 
'  Pensiero '  of  Michael  Angelo,  to  produce  the  full  effect 
intended  by  the  artist,  must  be  placed  at  a  considerable 
height,  and  must  be  lighted  from  above.  A  lower  situa- 
tion or  a  side-light  interferes  with  the  sentiment.  Michael 


342  APPENDIX. 


Angelo  himself,  in  the  first  fresco  which  he  executed  for 
the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  (the  'Deluge'),  com- 
mitted an  error  which  he  was  careful  to  avoid  in  the  suc- 
ceeding compositions.  The  treatment  was  too  crowded, 
too  complicated,  to  produce  the  effect  he  had  intended  ; 
he  had  not  sufficiently  considered  the  conditions  of  light 
and  distance.  In  the  Metopes  of  the  Parthenon  and  the 
Phigalian  marbles  the  exact  adaptation  of  the  degree  of 
relief  to  the  light  and  distance,  and  the  arrangement  of 
the  figures  to  the  degree  of  relief,  involve  considerations 
of  the  highest  moment,  and  which  being  well  understood 
must  enhance  our  admiration  of  these  wonderful  things  as 
productions  of  mind,  and  assist  us  to  those  principles 
which  are  capable  of  a  universal  application,  as  conditions 
of  fitness  and  excellence.  The  laws  exemplified  in  the 
works  of  Michael  Angelo  and  the  sculpture  of  the 
Parthenon  may  be  applied  to  the  ornamental  bas-relief 
over  a  chimneypiece,  or  the  chased  work  of  a  lady's 
brooch. 

As  to  the  second  class  of  errors,  those  which  have 
reference  to  the  more  spiritual  conditions  of  art.  I  shall 
say  little  of  them  here,  except  to  impress  on  the  mind  of 
the  educator  the  necessity  for  exercising  in  a  right  direc- 
tion the  faculties  of  admiration  and  reverence  as  applied 
to  those  productions  of  mind  which  are  clothed  in  form  and 
colour,  seeing  that  they  surround  us  on  every  side,  and 
make  a  part  of  our  daily  life.  Here  also  we  should  be 
taught  by  precept  and  example  that  there  is  a  true  and  a 
false,  which  cannot  by  any  arbitrary  fashions  of  the  day 
be  overlooked  or  confounded  with  impunity. 

The  most  important,  and  at  the  same  time  the  com- 
monest, error  I  have  met  with,  arises  from  a  total  ignorance 
of  the  necessary  limitations  of  the  various  styles  of  art. 
The  graceless  absurdities,  the  unreasonable  demands  on 
an  artist's  capabilities,  which  I  have  seen  result  from  such 


APPENDIX.  343 


mistakes,  would  fill  pages.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  tells  us 
somewhere  of  a  nobleman  who  once  came  to  him  and  re- 
quired him  to  paint  a  picture  representing  the  interview 
between  James  II.  and  the  old  Earl  of  Bedford,  the  father 
of  the  martyred  Russell  ;  when  James  requested  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Earl,  he  replied  in  a  broken  voice,  '  I  had  once 
a  son  who  would  now  have  done  your  majesty  good 
service.'  Sir  Joshua  in  vain  endeavoured  to  convince  his 
noble  friend  that  the  subject  was  one  which  could  not  be 
adequately  represented  in  any  form  of  art.  I  forget  how 
the  affair  ended,  but  probably  the  patron  left  the  artist 
with  a  meaner  idea  of  his  powers  than  he  had  entertained 
before,  and  found  some  one  else  to  paint  James  II.  and 
Bedford  standing  opposite  to  one  another.  Not  all  that 
we  can  imagine  to  ourselves  as  a  passing  action  or  event — 
not  all  that  can  be  described  in  words — is  suitable  for  a 
picture,  and  in  this  respect,  if  painting  has  its  limitations, 
much  more  narrow  are  the  limitations  of  sculpture.  Lessing, 
in  the  admirable  piece  of  criticism  which  he  has  entitled 
The  Laocoon,'  was  the  first  to  point  out  clearly  the  relative 
capabilities  and  limitations  of  the  two  arts  ;  and  I  con- 
ceive that,  without  a  just  appreciation  of  this  distinction, 
artists  and  amateurs  are  likely  to  fall  into  the  most  grace- 
less errors  and  absurdities. 

I  will  venture  on  a  familiar  illustration  of  this  neglect 
or  ignorance  of  a  principle  founded  in  the  absolute  nature 
of  things.  When  at  Rome  I  went  into  some  of  the  ateliers 
of  the  finest  cutters  of  shells,  and  expressed  my  surprise 
at  the  total  unfitness  of  some  of  the  objects  selected — 
popular  pictures,  for  instance,  transferred  to  bas-relief, 
Correggio's  '  Holy  Families,'  and  Guide's  '  Angels,'  or  the 
'  Daughter  of  Herodias.'  I  was  answered  that  these  were 
executed  for  the  English  market.  One  of  the  most  cele- 
brated among  the  English  artists  in  Rome  told  me  that  he 
often  accompanied  those  who  came  to  him  with  letters  of 


344  APPENDIX. 


recommendation  to  the  ateliers  of  the  different  bronze, 
mosaic,  and  shell  works  ;  the  plea  being  that  they,  the 
purchasers,  might  be  directed  in  their  choice  by  his  superior 
taste  and  experience.  '  But,'  said  he,  '  I  know  not  how  it 
happened,  I  seldom  could  induce  them  to  choose  what  was 
really  good,  really  fine  and  appropriate ;  and  in  presence 
of  Italian  workmen,  I  have  blushed  for  the  vulgar  mistakes 
made  by  my  countrywomen — women  of  rank,  education, 
and  otherwise  elegant  minds.'  Their  '  ignorance,'  he  added 
with  true  artistic  emphasis,  '  was  on  such  subjects  quite 
dreadful ! ' 

The  source  of  these  mistakes  lay  in  the  want  of  an 
educated  perception  of  certain  laws,  as  much  founded  in 
nature,  as  immutable,  as  those  which  regulate  harmony 
and  the  power  of  expression  in  music.  The  persons 
alluded  to  by  my  friend,  perhaps  looked  to  the  workman- 
ship, examined  it  with  a  microscope,  believed  themselves 
quite  capable  of  judging  whether  the  thing  was  well  or 
ill  done — the  more  serious  question,  whether  it  was  a  thing 
that  ought  to  be  done  at  all,  having  never  once  occurred 
to  them. 

The  beautiful  ornamental  casts  and  statuettes  which 
issue  daily  from  \hzfabriques  of  Messrs.  Copeland,  Minton, 
and  others,  the  facility,  cheapness,  and  elegance  with 
which  form  is  reproduced  in  twenty  different  materials, 
while  they  delight  the  lovers  of  art,  may  well  excite  some 
anxiety  and  apprehension,  lest  we  be  inundated  with 
graceful  frivolities  and  commonplace  second-rate  sentimen- 
tal trash  of  every  sort. 

Now  that  the  '  million  '  have  become  patrons  of  art, 
it  becomes  too  obviously  the  interest  of  the  manufacturer 
to  cater  for  the  fancy  of  the  '  million  ; '  and  thus  it  is  a 
matter  of  very  serious  import  that  the  young  should  be 
trained  to  discernment  and  refinement  in  the  appreciation 
of  such  objects  as  are  addressed  to  the  mind  through  the 


APPENDIX.  345 


eye,  that  the  public  taste  should,  through  the  rising  genera- 
tion, be  more  generally  educated— at  least,  that  it  should 
not  be  vitiated.  All  which  is  humbly  submitted  to  the 
consideration  of  the  reader. 

Art  is  for  pleasure  and  for  contemplation. 

To  multiply  the  sources  of  pleasure,  and  to  enlarge  the 
sphere  of  contemplation,  are  the  objects  we  propose  to 
ourselves  in  cultivating  what  we  term  a  taste  for  the  fine 
arts. 

But  not  only  must  we  have  pleasure  and  contemplation 
associated  together ;  they  must  be  associated  in  equal 
measure  ;  for  as  surely  as  the  one  or  the  other  predominates, 
there  shall  be  no  full  concord,  no  complete,  harmonious 
enjoyment  of  the  object  before  us.  The  intense  feeling  of 
beauty,  merely  as  such,  without  a  corresponding  exercise 
of  the  faculties  of  the  intellect,  or  a  due  subjection  to  the 
moral  sympathies,  leaves  the  soul  of  man  unsatisfied,  and 
produces,  if  not  a  degraded  and  frivolous,  at  least  a  narrow 
and  defective,  taste  in  art. 

On  the  other  hand,  where  the  fine  arts  become  sub- 
jects of  disquisition  and  analysis,  as  manifestations  of  the 
human  powers,  as  part  of  the  history  of  human  culture, 
as  an  instrument  available  in  the  hands  of  government 
for  the  amusement  or  improvement  of  the  people, — as  a 
means,  in  short,  to  some  end  out  of  themselves,  be  that  end 
what  it  may,  the  highest  or  the  lowest, — then  such  a  merely 
speculative,  utilitarian  appreciation  of  art,  can  lead  to 
nothing  very  good,  I  believe,  except  it  be  a  grant  from  the 
Treasury  to  help  Mr.  Layard,  or  a  new  National  Gallery, 
with  room  for  Mr.  Vernon's  pictures.  For  individual  en- 
joyment, for  individual  elevation  and  improvement,  what 
can  it  do  ?  But  blend  with  the  sensuous  pleasures  of  form 
and  colour  thrilling  through  nerve  and  fancy,  a  world  of 
awakened  thoughts  crowding  in  like  divine  guests  to  a 


346  APPENDIX. 


divine  banquet,  and  then  we  have  indeed  a  joy  at  once 
subjective  and  objective,  infinite,  complete,  and  worthy  of 
our  immortality :  a  joy,  which  no  lower  nature  can  share 
with  us, — which  higher  natures,  if  they  did  not  share,  might 
envy  us. 

I  pointed  out  on  a  former  occasion  the  importance  of 
cultivating  in  early  education  a  refined  and  exact  taste  in 
the  fine  arts,  and  the  advantage  of  being  prepared  by  some 
knowledge  of  those  principles  which  define  the  objects  and 
limit  the  capabilities  of  each,  to  understand  what  we  may 
reasonably  demand  from  the  art  and  from  the  artist.  But 
we  must  remember  that  a  refined,  an  educated  taste,  is  not 
necessarily  an  exclusive  or  fastidious  taste  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  more  cultivated  the  taste,  the  more  catholic — 
catholic,  I  mean,  in  the  sense  of  universal.  Artists  by  pro- 
fession must,  of  course,  choose,  or  be  impelled  by  the 
natural  bent  of  their  genius  which  leaves  them  no  choice, 
to  select  a  particular  branch  of  one  or  other  of  the  fine 
arts.  The  streams  which  would  otherwise  diverge  to  fer- 
tilise a  thousand  meadows,  must  be  directed  into  one  deep 
narrow  channel  before  they  can  turn  a  mill.  And  not 
unfrequently  we  find  others,  not  professional  artists,  indulge 
a  passion  for  some  particular  department  of  art.  One 
collects  prints  after  Claude  ;  another,  Marc  Antonio's  :  one 
buys  Dutch  pictures,  another  Etruscan  vases :  but  exactly 
in  proportion  as  we  have  cultivated  a  knowledge  of  all  the 
fine  arts,  and  all  the  various  schools  of  art,  in  their  rela- 
tion to  each  other  and  to  our  own  souls  and  to  universal 
nature,  will  be  the  correctness  of  our  judgment  in  that  one 
to  which  we  have  especially  devoted  ourselves,  and  the 
measure  of  the  delight  it  will  afford  us. 

Neither  is  it  true  that  a  correct  and  elevated  standard 
of  taste,  or  a  catholic  appreciation  of  whatever  is  excellent 
in  every  department  of  art,  necessarily  excludes  or  weakens 
individual  feelings  and  preferences  ;  far  from  it.  As  of  two 


APPENDIX.  347 


persons,  two  characters,  whose  qualities  and  gifts  of  person 
and  mind  we  know  to  be  pretty  equally  balanced,  one  shall 
be  unspeakably  dear,  in  every  action,  every  look,  every 
movement  interesting  to  us ;  their  absence  or  their  pre- 
sence makes  the  difference  between  darkness  and  light : 
while  the  other  shall  be  comparatively  indifferent,  though 
whenever  brought  before  us  we  have  all  the  pleasures  of 
admiration  and  appreciation  ;  so  it  is  with  the  productions 
of  mind  in  the  fine  arts.  In  as  far  as  they  are  stamped 
by  originality,  and  bear  the  various  impress  of  individual 
character,  and  in  as  far  as  our  own  sensibility  is  genuine  as 
well  as  refined,  in  so  far  we  shall  unite  with  large  percep- 
tion and  keen  enjoyment  of  all  that  is  good,  a  power  of 
being  excited  through  our  sympathies  and  associations,  and 
tone  and  temper  of  mind,  to  form  preferences,  to  take 
delight  in  some  one  object,  or  some  one  style  of  art  more 
than  in  another. 

In  contradistinction  to  a  catholic  taste  in  Art,  we  may 
have  an  exclusive  or  sectarian  taste,  which  seems  to  me  in 
most  cases  to  argue  one  of  two  things — either  a  want  of 
natural  sensibility,  or  something  factitious  and  narrow  in  the 
training  of  that  faculty. 

For  example — and  I  will  turn  to  music  for  an  illustra- 
tion as  being,  of  all  the  fine  arts,  the  most  generally 
cultivated  and  understood — if  we  should  hear  (as  I  have 
actually  heard)  a  soi-disant  connoisseur  profess  to  worship 
Handel,  and  at  the  same  time  speak  of  Mozart  as  merely 
'  the  composer  of  some  pretty  songs,'  and  denounce  all 
the  operas  of  Rossini  and  Bellini  as  '  intolerable  trash,' — 
what  should  we  say  ?  It  sounds  grand  and  imposing,  this 
Ant  Handel,  ant  nihil\  but  so  to  love  Handel  is  not  to  love 
music  ;  or  such  love  of  music  is  like  the  piety  of  the  man 
who  could  say  his  prayers  nowhere  but  in  his  own  parish 
church.  So,  if  we  should  hear  one  discourse  on  the  '  old 
masters '  and  '  early  Christian  art,'  while  the  vigorous 


348  APPENDIX. 


nature  of  Landseer,  and  the  animated  elegance  of  Leslie, 
and  the  deep  refined  feeling  of  Eastlake,  exist  for  him  in 
vain  ;  or  another  enthusiastic  about  Claude  and  Poussin, 
while  the  breezy  freshness  of  Lee's  home  scenery  or  the 
bright  poetry  of  Stanfield's  Italian  landscapes  are  to  him 
as  though  they  were  not,  then  we  may  be  silent ;  but  it 
will  be  the  silence  of  pity  rather  than  of  sympathy. 

For  myself,  I  would  rather  have  the  quick  sensitive  ear 
of  the  Harmonious  Blacksmith  who  had  delight  in  the 
variety  of  tones  struck  by  his  own  hammer — I  would 
rather  have  the  mere  instinctive  pleasure  of  a  child  that 
claps  its  hands  when  the  rainbow  spans  the  sky,  than  the 
fantastic  exclusiveness  of  such  lovers  of  music, — such  lovers 
of  art !  Between  Handel's  wondrous  '  Hailstone  Chorus/ 
executed  by  six  hundred  musicians  to  an  audience  of  six 
thousand  people,  and  Paesiello's  '  Nel  cor  piu  non  mi  sento] 
warbled  from  a  star-lit  terrace,  there  is  certainly  as  wide  a 
difference — and  the  same  kind  of  difference — as  between 
Michael  Angelo's '  Last  Judgment '  and  one  of  Fra  Angelico's 
angels  of  Paradise.  Happy  are  they  who  feel  and  worship 
either  ;  but  happier  far  those  who  can  comprehend  both, — 
whose  hearts  can  thrill  to  every  chord  of  power  and  beauty 
struck  between  these  two  extremes  of  grandeur  and  of 
grace ! 

Now,  to  return  to  the  especial  object  of  these  pre- 
liminary observations.  We  must  begin  by  admitting  the 
position  laid  down  by  Frederic  Schlegel,  that  Art  and 
Nature  are  not  identical.  '  Men/  he  says, '  traduce  Nature, 
who  falsely  give  her  the  epithet  of  artistic ; '  for  though 
nature  comprehends  all  Art,  Art  cannot  comprehend  all 
Nature.  Nature,  in  her  sources  of  PLEASURE  and  CON- 
TEMPLATION, is  infinite,  and  Art,  as  her  reflection  in  human 
works,  finite  ;  Nature  is  boundless  in  her  powers,  exhaust- 
less  in  her  variety :  the  powers  of  Art  and  its  capabilities 
of  variety  in  production  are  bounded  on  every  side.  Nature 


APPENDIX.  349 


herself,  the  infinite,  has  circumscribed  the  bounds  of  finite 
Art.  The  one  is  the  divinity ;  the  other  the  priestess. 
And  if  poetic  Art  in  the  interpreting  of  Nature  share  in  her 
infinitude,  yet,  in  representing  Nature  through  material 
form  and  colour,  she  is, — oh  !  how  limited  !  The  highest 
genius  is  best  shown  in  its  power  of  perceiving  and 
respecting  these  bounds,  and  working  within  them  in  a 
perfect  and  noble  freedom. 

Now,  as  I  have  already  observed,1  if  each  of  the  forms 
of  poetic  art  has  its  law  of  limitation,  as  determined  as 
the  musical  scale,  narrowest  of  all  are  the  limitations  of 
sculpture,  to  which,  notwithstanding,  we  give  the  highest 
place.  And  I  have  also  attempted  to  show  that  it  is  with 
regard  to  sculpture  we  find  most  frequently  those  mis- 
takes which  arise  from  a  want  of  knowledge  of  the  true 
principles  of  art.  Now  I  will  endeavour  to  explain,  with 
reference  to  sculpture,  the  distinction  between  an  exact 
critical  taste  and  a  narrow,  exclusive,  and  factitious  taste. 

Admitting,  then,  as  necessary  and  immutable,  the  limi- 
tations of  the  art  of  sculpture  as  to  the  management  of 
the  material  in  giving  form  and  expression  ;  its  primal  laws 
of  repose  and  simplicity ;  its  rejection  of  the  complex  and 
conventional ;  its  bounded  capabilities  as  to  choice  of 
subject : — must  we  also  admit,  with  some  of  the  most 
celebrated  critics  in  art,  that  there  is  but  one  style  of 
sculpture — the  GREEK  ?  And  that  every  deviation  from 
pure  Greek  art  must  be  regarded  as  a  depravation  and 
perversion  of  the  powers  and  objects  of  sculpture,  and 
stigmatised  as  such  or  only  scornfully  endured  ?  This  is 
a  question  which  we  may  at  least  consider. 

We  are  not  now  looking  back  to  the  antique  time.  We 
are  not  thinking  of  what  sculpture  was  to  the  Greeks,  but 

1  Art  Journal,  cxxix.  See  also  Eastlake's  Contributions  to  the 
Literature  of  Art,  Coleridge's  sketch  On  Poesy  in  Art,  and  the  work 
of  F.  Schlegel,  to  which  I  have  been,  in  the  foregoing  observations 
largely  indebted. 


350  APPENDIX. 


what  it  is  or  may  be  to  us, — as  the  expression  of  our  pre- 
sent life, — that  is  to  say,  of  all  that  is  worth  anything  in 
life,  its  religion  and  its  poetry.  The  Assyrian,  the  Egyp- 
tian, the  Lycian  sculptures,  so  wonderful  and  interesting  to 
us  as  monuments,  are  in  every  other  sense  done  with. 
They  may  be  imitated,  copied,  but  their  life  has  gone  into 
the  past.  They  are  forms  of  what  exists  no  longer,  and 
forms  which  we  should  not  borrow  to  clothe  in  them  either 
our  own  memories  or  our  aspirations.  They  are  to  us  dead. 
There  remain  to  us  Greek  art,  and  that  style  which,  for 
the  sake  of  brevity  and  clearness,  I  will  here  call  Gothic 
sculpture ;  not  admitting  the  propriety  or  exactness  of  the 
epithet,  but  using  it  in  a  general  sense,  as  we  use  the  term 
Gothic  architecture, — to  comprehend  all  sculpture  not 
produced  under  classical  influence. 

Now,  as  for  Greek  sculpture,  what  can  it  do  for  us  ? 
what  can  we  do  with  it  ?  Many  things — beautiful,  glorious 
things  !  not  all  things  ! 

It  is  absolute  that  Greek  art  reached  long  ago  the  term 
of  its  development ;  it  can  go  no  farther.     We  may  stand 
and  look  at  the  Sister  Fates  of  the  Parthenon  in  awe  and 
in  despair ;  we  can  do  neither  more  nor  better.     But  we 
have  not  done  with  Greek  sculpture.      What  in  it  is  purely 
ideal  is  eternal ;  what  is  conventional  is  in  accordance  with 
the  primal    conditions  of   all  imitative    art.      Therefore, 
though  it  may  have  reached  the  point  at  which  develop- 
ment stops,  and  though  its   capability  of  adaptation  be 
limited  by  necessary  laws,  still  its  all-beautiful,  its  immor- 
tal imagery  hangs  round  us,  haunts  us  :  still  '  doth  the  old 
feeling  bring  back  the  old  names'  and  with  the  old  names, 
the  forms.;  still  in  those  old  familiar  forms  we  continue  to 
clothe  all  that  is  loveliest  in  visible  nature  ;  still  in  all  our 
associations  with  Greek  art 

'Tis  Jupiter  who  brings  whate'er  is  great, 
And  Venus  who  brings  everything  that's  fair  ! 


APPENDIX.  351 


That  the  supreme  beauty  of  Greek  art — that  the  majes- 
tic significance  of  the  classical  myths,  will  ever  be  to  the 
educated  mind  and  eye  as  things  indifferent  and  outworn, 
I  cannot  believe.  Our  sculptors  still  seek  there  what  they 
cannot  find  elsewhere,  the  perfection  of  ideal  beauty  in  the 
undraped  human  form  ;  still  does  Gibson  run  variations  on 
the  tale  of  '  Cupid  and  Psyche,'  and  its  perpetual  beauty 
wearies  us  never.  Foley's  '  Ino  and  Bacchus ; '  the  new 
version  of '  The  Three  Graces,'  by  Baily  ;  the  '  Eucharis ' 
of  Wyatt ;  the  really  Olympian  '  Venus  and  Cupid '  of 
Edward  Davis,  show  us  in  how  fine  a  spirit  Greek  art 
is  felt  and  rendered  by  these  and  others  of  our  native 
sculptors. 

But  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  impersonation 
of  the  Greek  allegories  in  the  purest  forms  of  Greek  art 
will  ever  give  intense  pleasure  to  the  people,  or  ever  speak 
home  to  the  hearts  of  the  men  and  women  of  these  times. 
And  this,  not  from  the  want  of  an  innate  taste  and  capacity 
in  the  minds  of  the  masses — not  because  ignorance  has 
'frozen  the  genial  current  in  their  souls' — not  merely  through 
a  vulgar  preference  for  mechanical  imitation  of  common 
and  familiar  forms  ;  no,  but  from  other  causes,  not  tran- 
sient— not  accidental.  Because  a  classical  education  is  not 
now,  as  heretofore,  the  only  education  given  ;  and  through 
an  honest  and  intense  sympathy  with  the  life  of  their  own 
experience ;  and  from  a  dislike  to  vicious  associations, 
though  clothed  in  classical  language  and  classical  forms ; 
thence  it  is  that  the  people  have  turned  with  a  sense  of 
relief  from  gods  and  goddesses,  Ledas  and  Antiopes,  to 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  groups  of  charity,  and  young 
ladies  in  the  character  of  Innocence.  Harmless,  picturesque 
inanities  ! — as  much  sculpture  as  Watts'  hymns  are  poetry. 
But  is  this  art  for  the  million  ?  we  might  as  well  feed  our 
'  million '  on  soupe-au-lait.  To  such  things  has  Greek  art 
in  its  popular  form  been  reduced.  But  Gothic  sculpture 


352  APPENDIX. 


has  this  in  common  with  Gothic  architecture,  that  it  has 
within  it  a  principle  of  almost  exhaustless  development ; 
and  if  that  development  be  guided  and  governed  by  reve- 
rential feeling,  and  a  just  and  harmonious  taste — if  we  be 
not  deluged  with  the  merely  ornamental  and  sentimental, 
or  the  vulgarly  familiar  and  extravagant — we  may,  in  fol- 
lowing out  the  principle  of  medieval  art,  be  allowed  to 
seek  in  sculpture  the  expression  of  what  is  most  vene- 
rable and  dear  to  us  in  memory ;  in  life,  and  in  after-life. 

All  sculpture  was,  in  its  origin,  combined  with  architec- 
ture, and  subservient  to  it ;  and  as  the  Greek  sculpture, 
when  disengaged  from  architecture,  fell  into  new  and 
various  forms  without  losing  its  characteristics  of  intense- 
ness  and  simplicity,  the  same  is  true  of  Gothic  sculpture ; 
— with  this  essential  difference, — that  as  Greek  sculpture 
was  the  apotheosis  of  mortal  beauty  and  power,  it  found 
early  and  necessarily  its  limits  of  perfection,  and  the  highest 
possible  adaptation  of  its  principles  in  the  deification  of 
external  nature :  but  as  Gothic  sculpture  was  the  expres- 
sion of  a  new  life  introduced  into  the  world — of  love  puri- 
fied through  faith  and  hope — of  human  affections,  sorrows, 
aspirations ; — it  follows,  that  we  have  not  yet  found  or 
imagined  any  limit  to  its  capabilities  ;  we  test  its  perfection 
by  a  wholly  different  law.  We  find  its  highest  inspiration 
in  our  religion  and  our  poetry,  and  hitherto  its  grandest 
adaptation  in  those  sweet  and  solemn  types  of  form 
handed  down  to  us  by  the  religious  artists  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

Therefore  what  the  people  now  demand  from  sculpture 
is  the  introduction  into  our  places  of  worship  of  a  style  of 
art  embodying  the  grand  and  holy  memories  of  our  reli- 
gion, the  solemn  and  gracious  figures  of  the  scriptural  per- 
sonages ; — and  into  our  rooms  and  houses  the  forms  of 
those  beings  consecrated  in  our  poetry,  or  memorable  in 
our  annals.  It  is  true  that  hitherto  in  many  instances 


APPENDIX.  353 


where  this  has  been  attempted,  there  has  been  complete  or 
partial  failure,  either  from  tasteless  treatment,  or  injudicious 
selection,  or  ignorance,  or  neglect  of  the  primal  laws  com- 
mon to  all  sculpture,  and  that  the  result  has  been  not  legi- 
timate sculpture,  but  the  transfer  of  a  picture  to  marble ; 
and  this  will  never  do. 

It  was  natural  that  the  abuse  of  religious  art  in  the 
Middle  Ages  should  lead  to  a  reaction.  This  reaction 
had  reached  its  ultimatum  in  the  defaced,  denuded  parish 
churches,  the  wretched  formal  whitewashed  Dissenting 
chapels,  which  people  were  pleased  to  call  a  return  to 
primitive  apostolic  simplicity,  whereas  it  was  only  Puri- 
tanical intolerance,  tasteless  incapacity,  poverty  of  means 
or  of  mind.  Now  the  pendulum  swings  back  again  ; — we 
must  only  be  careful  that  the  impulse  given  does  not  send 
it  too  far  in  the  contrary  direction. 

Music,  painting,  sculpture, — if  these  are  a  means  of 
lifting  up  the  heart  to  God,  it  is  a  proof  that  He  intends  us 
to  use  such  means.  The  abuse  of  such  means  to  purposes 
which  enslave  the  intellect  or  misdirect  the  feelings,  only 
proves  that,  like  all  the  best  gifts  of  God,  these  too  are 
liable  to  abuse.  Rowland  Hill  (he  of  the  Chapel,  not  of 
the  Post  Office)  used  to  say  that  he  saw  no  reason  why  the 
devil  should  have  the  monopoly  of  the  best  tunes,  and  in 
the  same  manner  I  see  no  reason  why  in  these  days  sculpture 
should  be  held  fit  for  secular  purposes  alone.  '  It  is  not,' 
says  Landor,  in  one  of  those  wise  and  eloquent  passages 
which  so  often  occur  in  his  pages — '  it  is  not  because  God 
is  delighted  with  hymns  and  instruments  of  music,  or  pr&- 
fers  bass  to  tenor,  or  tenor  to  bass,  or  Handel  to  Giles 
Holloway,  that  nations  throng  to  celebrate  in  their  churches 
His  power  and  His  beneficence.  It  is  not  that  Inigo 
Jones  or  Christopher  Wren  could  erect  to  Him  a  habitation 
more  worthy  of  His  presence  than  the  humblest  cottage  on 
the  loneliest  moor.  It  is  that  the  best  feelings,  the  highest 

A  A 


354  APPENDIX. 


faculties,  the  greatest  wealth,  should  be  displayed  and 
exercised  in  the  patrimonial  palace  of  every  family  united  ; 
— for  such  are  churches  both  to  the  rich  and  poor.' 

I  was  about  to  venture  on  a  few  words  relative  to  the 
selection  of  religious  and  poetical  subjects  which  have  been 
or  may  be  adapted  to  sculptural  treatment,  and  are  fitted 
for  the  present  state  of  feeling  and  opinion  ;  but  this  de- 
mands so  much  consideration,  and  would  lead  us  so  far, 
that  it  must  be  postponed  to  a  future  occasion. 


INDEX. 


AMB 

AMBOS,  Betty  von,  84 
Amelia,  Princess,  of  Saxony, 
Mrs.  Jameson's  translation  of  her 
dramas,  158,  163,  175 
Arkwright,  Mrs.,  her  singing,  15 
Art,  Thoughts  on,  by  Mrs.  Jameson, 

332-354 

Austin,  Mrs.,  90,  145  ;   her  '  Cha- 
racteristics of  Goethe,'  77 


BA1LLIE,  Joanna,  her  letter  on 
the  '  Winter  Studies,'  149  ;  her 
friendship  with  Mrs.  Jameson, 
185  ;  her  letter  on  the  death  of  Dr. 
Channing,  187  ;  her  opinions  on 
the  moral  state  of  Scotland,  197 

Barrett,  Elizabeth  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Browning).  See  Browning,  Eli- 
zabeth Barrett 

Barry  Cornwall,  his  friendship 
with  Mrs.  Jameson,  43 

Bate,  Mrs.,  anecdote  of  her  child- 
hood, 22  ;  her  marriage,  52 

Bate,  Gerardine  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Macpherson),  Mrs.  Jameson's 
niece.  See  Macpherson,  Mrs. 

Belgium,  Mrs.  Jameson's  travels 
in,  52 

Bell,  Sir  Charles,  his  '  Anatomy  of 
Expression,'  192 

Birmingham,  the  riots  in  183931,  160 

Booth,  Mr,  his  anecdote  concern- 


BYR 

ing  Mrs.  Jameson's  alleged  som- 
nambulism, 3 

Boston,  U.S.,  Mrs.  Jameson's  im- 
pression of,  134 

Boufflers,  Madame  de,  118 

Bradford,  Social  Science  Meeting 
at,  304 

Briggs,  Mr.,  his  portrait  of  Mrs. 
Jameson,  44 

Bronte,  Mr.,  304 

Browning,  Robert,  his  marriage  with 
Miss  Barrett,  230 ;  his  practical 
poetry  at  Vaucluse,  231 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  her 
friendship  with  Mrs.  Jameson, 
190,  229 ;  her  letter  describing 
her  invalid  condition,  191  ;  her 
'  Cry  of  the  Children,'  194  ;  her 
translation  of  the  Odyssean  le- 
gend relating  to  the  daughters  of 
Pandarus,  217-219;  her  opinion 
of  the  "essay  on  the  •  House  of 
Titian,'  219  ;  her  marriage  and 
meeting  in  Paris  with  Mrs. 
Jameson,  230  ;  her  improvement 
in  health,  232  ;  gives  birth  to  a 
son,  263 

Burlowe,  Henry  Behnes,  the  sculp, 
tor,  65  ;  his  death,  177  (note) 

Byron,  Lady,  her  friendship  with 
Mrs.  Jameson,  94,  163,  188;  her 
poetry,  187  ;  her  pursuits  at 
Kirkby,  209  ;  her  quarrel  with 
her  friend,  280 


A  A  2 


356 


INDEX. 


CAM 

/CAMPBELL,  Thomas,  his  memoir 

\J     of  Mrs.  Siddons,  62 

Canada,  Mrs.  Jameson's  impressions 
of,  119 

Carlyle,  Mr.,  87,  143 

Catalani,  Mme.,  235 

Catherine,  St.,  age  of  the  legend  of, 
245 

Channing,  Dr.,  134  Joanna  Bail- 
lie's  allusion  to  his  death,  187 

Charlotte,  Princess,  commissions 
Mr.  Murphy  to  copy  the  '  Wind- 
sor Beauties'  in  miniature,  53  ; 
her  joke  about  Queen  Charlotte, 
55  ;  her  death,  55 

Charlotte,  Queen,  anecdote  con- 
cerning her,  54 

Clarendon,  Lord,  255 

Clinton,  Mrs.,  widow  of  De  Witt 
Clinton,  113 

Colburn,  Mr.,  buys  the  copyright 
of  Mrs.  Jameson's  '  Diary,'  42 

Collingwood,  Lord,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
juvenile  verses  on,  18 

Combe,  George,  his  article  on 
Phrenology  applied  to  the  Fine 
Arts,  192 

'  Commonplace  Book  of  Thoughts, 
Memories,  and  Fancies,'  273 

Compton,  Lord,  240 


T\ANNECKER,  his  statue  of  the 

jJ    Redeemer,  75 

D'Arlincourt,  Vicomte,  the  rage  in 

Paris   for  his   romance  of  the 

'  Solitaire,'  33 
Davis,  Charles  A.,  113 
Devrient,  Madame  Schroeder,  75  ; 

Mrs.  Jameson's  opinion  of  her, 

90 

'  Diary  of  an  Ennuyte]  42 
Dresden,  Tieck's  house  at,  67 
Duers,  the,  of  New  York,  113 


GWY 

TjUSTLAKE,     Lady,    completes 
•U     Mrs.     Jameson's     unfinished 

manuscripts,  306-310 
Edgeworth,  Maria,  254 
Education,  Mrs.  Jameson's  efforts 

in  behalf  of,  121,  159,  270 
Emmett,  Robert,  2 
Exhibition,    the    Great,    of    1851, 

Mrs.  Jameson's  guide-book  for, 

267 


'  T1AIZY,'  Mrs.  Jameson's  story  of, 

•*•      13,  I? 

Fitzgerald,  Lord  Edward,  2 

Flanders,  lace-making  of,  anecdote 
concerning  Mrs.  Jameson,  20 

Forbes,  James,  the  Orientalist, 
17 

France,  Mrs.  Jameson's  observa- 
tions on  the  state  of,  249,  270 

Frankfort,  75 


ri  ARDINER,  Sir  Robert,  his  let- 
^J    ter  to  Mr.  Murphy  concerning 

the  miniatures  of  the  '  Windsor 

Beauties,'  57 
Germany,  Mrs.  Jameson's  Sketches 

of,  86-89 
Gibson,  John,  Mrs.  Jameson's  story 

of  his  career,  241,  315-331  ;  his 

bust  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  241 
Gmiindensee,  the,  101 
Goethe,  Ottilie  von,  her  character, 

77 ;     Mrs.    Jameson's    intimacy 

with  her,  78 
Grote,    Mrs.,     her    Memorandum 

concerning  Mrs.  Jameson,  170- 

172 
Griiner,    Ludwig,    his    engravings 

from  the  Royal  frescoes,  225 
Gwynn,  Nell,  anecdote  concerning 

her  portrait  at  Windsor,  54 


INDEX. 


357 


HAH 

HAHN-HAHN,  Countess,  211 
'  Hamlet,'  the  Ghost  in,  5  ;  the 

female  characters  in,  69 
Hanwell,  Mrs.  Jameson's  home  at, 

ii 

Harden,  Mr.  John,  25 
Hatherton,  Lord,  Mrs.  Jameson's 

friendship  with,  37 ;  her  visit  at 

his  country-house,  155 
Haworth,  Charlotte  Bronte's  home, 

304 

Hawthorne,  Mr.,  302 

Haydon,  Benjamin,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
review  of  his  life,  276 

Hayter,  Mr.,  his  'Juliet'  sketches, 
62 

Head,  Sir  Francis,  125 

Hemans,  Charles,  239 

Herbert,  Sir  Charles  and  Lady,  235 

'  History  of  the  Saviour,'  Mrs. 
Jameson's  posthumous  work,  as 
completed  by  Lady  Eastlake,  310 

Holland,  Mrs.  Jameson's  travels  in, 
52 

Hudson  River,  115 

Humboldt,  Mrs.  Jameson's  intro- 
duction to,  103 

Hunt,  Leigh,  his  note  on  Mrs. 
Jameson,  44  note 


INDIANS,   the   American,   Mrs. 
Jameson's  rambles  among,  129 
Ireland,    Mrs.   Jameson's   political 
opinions    concerning,    196,   216, 
255,  260  ;  her  tour  in,  251 
Irving,   Washington,  his    visit    to 

Mrs.  Jameson,  113 
Italy,  Mrs.  Jameson's  visits  to,  26, 
212,  230-247,  296-302 


JAMESON   Anna  Brownell,  her 
*J      birth,  i  ;    her  early  residence 
at  Whitehaven,  2  ;  her  reminis- 
cences of  her  childhood,  4,  13  ; 


JAM 

her  removal    to    Newcastle-on- 
Tyne,  6 ;  her  governess,  7  ;  un- 
dertakes a  strange  childish  ad- 
venture,  8 ;    comes   to    London, 
ii;   her  studies,    12;   her  first 
literary  effusions,  13,17;  her  love 
of  independence,  19;  her  plan  of 
assisting  her  parents,  19  ;  enters 
the     Marquis    of    Winchester's 
family  as  governess,  23  ;  her  first 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  Jameson, 
25  ;    her  journey   to    Italy,   26  ; 
diary  of  her  tour,  28 ;  her  first 
view  of  Rome,  36  ;  becomes  go- 
verness   in    the    family  of    Mr. 
Littleton  (afterwards  Lord  Hath- 
erton),  37  ;    her    marriage,   38 ; 
how  her '  Diary'  came  to  be  pub- 
lished, 39;  Fanny  Kemble's  de- 
scription of  her  personal  appear- 
ance, 44 ;   her  married  life,  46  ; 
her  record  of  a  second  continental 
tour,  48  ;   writes   the   letterpress 
for  her  father's  portraits  of  the 
1  Beauties  of  the  Court  of  King 
Charles  II.,'  58;  her  work  on  the 
'Characteristics  of  Women,'  59; 
dedicates  it  to  Fanny  Kemble, 
61  ;    goes   to    Germany   on   her 
husband's  departure  for  Canada,  ^ 
64;    her   friendship   with   Major 
Noel,   65  ;    her   introduction    to 
Tieck,  66  ;  and  to  Retzsch,  72  ; 
her  visit  to  Dannecker,  75  ;  her 
acquaintance  with    the    Goethe 
family,  76  ;  her  husband's  cool- 
ness, 79  ;  her  conversations  with 
Schlegel,  80  ;  visits  Munich,  82  ; 
is  summoned  home  on  account 
of  her  father's   illness,  83 ;    her 
motherly  affection  for  her  niece, 
85  ;  publishes  her    '  Visits  and 
Sketches,'  86  ;  popularity  of  her 
works,  86,  92  ;  her  description  of 
her  life  in   London.  89  ;  brings 
out  Ret/sdvs  volume  cf '  Fancies,' 


358 


INDEX. 


JAM 

92  ;  commencement  of  her  inti- 
macy with  Lady  Byron,  94 ;  re- 
turns to  Germany,  97  ;  the  want 
of  sympathy  between  her  husband 
and  herself,  98  ;  his  letters  call- 
ing her  to  Canada,  99,  106  ;  her 
sojourn  beside  the  Gmiindensee, 
101  ;  returns  to  Weimar,  and  is 
introduced  to  Humboldt,  103 ; 
her  description  of  her  life  at 
Weimar,  104 ;  her  reply  to  her 
husband's  letters,  107  ;  decides 
upon  going  to  Canada,  109  ;  her 
landing  at  New  York,  in  ;  her 
letter  thence  to  her  family, 
112  ;  her  voyage  up  the  Hudson 
river,  115;  her  arrival  at  Toronto, 
116;  her  reflections  on  her  new 
home,  117;  her  impressions  of 
Canada,  119  ;  her  interest  in  the 
education  question,  121,  159, 
270  ;  visits  the  falls  of  Niagara, 
122 ;  her  admiration  of  Lake 
Ontario,  123,  128 ;  her  letters  to 
her  sister  Charlotte  and  Mr. 
Noel,  indicating  her  plans,  124- 
127  ;  attends  the  prorogation  of 
the  Canadian  Parliament,  125  ; 
her  description  of  a  Canadian 
summer,  127  ;  resolves  to  visit 
the  Indian  settlements,  129  ;  her 
'Winter  Studies  and  Summer 
Rambles,'  131, 149,  150, 155  ;  her 
power  of  winning  confidence  and 
affection,  131  ;  her  final  separa- 
tion from  her  husband,  132  ;  her 
friendship  with  Miss  Sedgwick, 
J33>  T36  ;  letter  from  on  board 
ship  to  Miss  Sedgwick,  137; 
arrives  in  England,  139  ;  letter 
to  Mr.  Noel  concerning  her 
Canadian  diary,  139  ;  letters  to 
Miss  Sedgwick,  141-147,  151- 
154  ;  her  visit  at  Lord  Hather- 
ton's,  1 54 ;  the  review  of  her  book 
in  the  '  British  and  Foreign 


JAM 

Quarterly,'  155  ;  plans  another 
visit  to  Germany,  157;  her  views 
on  national  education  and  the 
position  of  women,  159  ;  her  ad- 
miration" of  Lady  Byron,  161- 
163  ;  her  sense  of  duty  to  her  sex, 
161  ;  her  embarrassment  on  ac- 
count of  her  father's  health,  165  ; 
her  '  Companion  to  the  Galleries 
of  Art,'  1 66  ;  the  Queen's  appre- 
ciation of  it,  167  ;  her  contribu- 
tions to  Mr.  Noel's  translation 
of  Waagen's  '  Rubens,'  168  ;  her 
labours  in  compiling  the  '  Com- 
panion,' 170-173  ;  success  of  her 
articles  on  Italian  painters  in 
the  '  Penny  Magazine,'  173 ; 
French  translation  of,  174  ;  pub- 
lishes a  '  Handbook  to  the  Public 
Galleries,' 175  ;  her  acquaintance 
with  M.  de  Triqueti,  the  sculptor, 
176;  her  thoughts  on  somnam- 
bulism, 177  ;  letter  from  Paris  to 
her  sister  Charlotte,  178  ;  her 
father's  death,  180;  letter  to  Miss 
Sedgwick  announcing  this  event, 
1 82;  her  friendships,  1 85-1 9 1  ;her 
article  in  the  '  Athenaeum '  on  the 
condition  of  women,  I95;herj'our- 
ney  to  Scotland,  195  ;  her  reflec- 
tions on  a  summer  Sunday  there, 
199 ;  her  preparations  for  her 
magnum  opifs,  201 ;  goes  to  Ger- 
many, 210  ;  and  thence  to  Italy, 
212;  her  letter  to  Miss  Sedgwick 
describing  her  tour,  213;  her 
protest  against  the  Coercion 
Bill,  216  ;  publishes  a  volume  of 
essays,  216;  her  visit  to  the 
house  of  Titian,  220-224  ;  writes 
the  letterpress  for  Ludwig  Gai- 
ner's engravings  of  the  Royal 
frescoes,  225  ;  her  notes  upon 
public  affairs,  226,  259  ;  publish- 
ing arrangements  for  her  '  Sacred 
and  Legendary  Art,'  226 ;  re- 


INDEX. 


359 


JAM 

visits  Italy  with  her  niece,  228  ; 
her  meeting  with  the  Brownings 
in  Paris,  230  ;  her  art  studies  in 
Pisa,  233  ;  her  «  child,'  234  ;  her 
life  in  Florence,  235 ;  her  second 
visit  to  Rome,  237  ;  her  Sunday 
evening  tea  parties  there,  239  ; 
her  story  of  Gibson's  career,  241 ; 
her  lodging,  241  ;  her  pilgrim- 
ages among  the  antique  churches, 
244 ;  how  she  proposed  to  treat 
the  '  Prince  of  Darkness,'  248  ; 
her  note  on  the  disturbances  of 
1848,  248 ;  publication  of  her 
book,  250;  revisits  Ireland,  251  ; 
her  letters  thence  to  Mr.  Long- 
man concerning  her  book,  252, 

253  ;  her  impressions  of  Ireland, 

254  ;  her  account  of  a  remarkable 
sermon,   255 ;  Mr.    Longfellow's 
tribute  to  her  work,  263  ;  obtains 
a  pension  of  ioo/.,  265  ;  her  in- 
terest in   the  Great   Exhibition, 
267  ;  new  edition  of  her  book  on 
Canada,  269  ;  publication  of  her 
'  Legends  of  the  Madonna,'  271  ; 
her  Wednesday  evening  parties, 
272  ;  her  *  Commonplace  Book,' 
273 ;  her  paper  on   Haydon  in 
the    '  Edinburgh   Review,'   276  ; 
letter  to  Miss  Sedgwick  on  her 
literary  occupations,   278 ;    rup- 
ture of  her  friendship  with  Lady 
Byron,  280-283  >  l°ss  °f  ner  in- 
come by  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band, 283  ;  an  annuity  of  ioo/. 
raised  by  private  subscription  for 
her,  284  ;  refuses  a  yearly  allow- 
ance offered  by  a  friend,  286 ;  her 
lectures  on  '  Sisters  of  Charity,' 
288  ;  and  on  the   '  Communion 
of  Labour,'  290  ;  the  etchings  for 
the  second  edition  of  her  '  Ma- 
donna,' 296,  298  ;  her  delight  in   ! 
Rome,  296  ;   her  unfinished   re-   I 
view  of  '  Vasari,'  299 ;  her  grief  i 


LAB 

at  the  breach  of  friendship  with 
Lady  Byron,  300 ;  her  health 
failing,  301 ;  her  friends  in  Rome 
in  1859,  301  ;  commences  the 
'  History  of  Our  Lord  and  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist,'  302  ;  her  de- 
scription of  a  Saxon  country 
house,  303  ;  returns  to  London, 
303  ;  attends  the  Social  Science 
meeting  at  Bradford,  304 ;  her 
preparations  for  her  last  work, 
3°5»  3°9  5  her  thoughts  on  Mu- 
rillo's  picture  of  the  miracle  at 
the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  307  ;  her 
unfinished  work,  309  ;  her  illness, 
311  ;  and  death,  312 

Jameson,  Robert,  his  courtship,  25  ; 
his  marriage,  38  ;  appointed  to  a 
judgeship  in  the  island  of  Do- 
minica, 46 ;  his  return  to  Eng- 
land, 63 ;  obtains  an  appoint- 
ment in  Canada,  64  ;  summons 
his  wife  to  Canada,  97  ;  his  cha- 
racter, 98  ;  his  appointment  to 
the  Chancellorship,  125;  his 
death,  283 

Jones,  Sir  Wm.,  interest  taken  by 
Mrs.  Jameson  in  his  works  during 
her  childhood,  13 


KEMBLE,  Adelaide,  153;  Mrs. 
Jameson's  memoir  of,  224 
Kemble,  Charles,  his  acting,  166 
Kemble,   Fanny  (afterwards    Mrs. 
Butler),  her  sketch  of  Mrs.  Jame- 
son, 44  ;  suggests  a  title  for  Mrs. 
Jameson's     '  Characteristics      of 
Women,'  61 ;  her  remarks  on  Mrs. 
Siddons's  biographers,  62 


T  ABOUR,  Ferdinand,  his  trans- 
^  lation  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  papers 
on  Italian  painters,  174 


36° 


INDEX. 


LAN 

Lansdowne,  Lord,   letter   to   Mrs. 

Jameson,  169 

'  Legends  of  the  Madonna,'  271 
Lely,  Sir  Peter,  his  portraits  of  the 
'    '  Windsor  Beauties,'  53 
Leopold,  Prince,  and  Mr.  Murphy, 

56 

Lind,  Jenny,  263 
Lindsay,  Lord,  his  work  on  Christian 

Art,  239 

Lockhart,  John  Gibson,  142 
Longfellow,  his  new  year's  greeting 

to  Mrs.  Jameson,  263 


1  111  ACBETH,'  Tieck's  translation 
1V1     of,  67 

Macpherson,  Mrs.,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
affection  for,  211,  228,  234  ;  her 
marriage,  •  262  ;  executes  the 
etchings  for  the  second  edition 
of  the  '  Madonna,'  298 
Macpherson,  Robert,  his  marriage 
to  Mrs.  Jameson's  niece,  262 

Martineau,  Harriet,  her  misstate- 
ment  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's '  Diary,'  58  ;  her  introduc- 
tion to  Lady  Byron,  95  ;  her  in- 
terest in  Mrs.  Jameson's  Canadian 
book,  149  ;  her  letter  on  Mr.  Mur- 
phy's death,  181 ;  her  letter  detail- 
ing her '  cure  by  mesmerism,'  205- 
209 ;  Mrs.  Jameson's  note  thereon, 
209 

Michel  Angelo,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
ideas  of  his  '  Holy  Family,'  37 

Miller,  Mr.,  the  publisher,  John 
Murray's  precursor,  6 

Montagu,  Mrs.  Basil,  her  note  con- 
cerning Mrs.  Jameson's  '  Diary,' 
42 

Morgan,  Lady,  8r 

Munich,  Mrs.  Jameson's  impres- 
sions of,  82 

Murillo,  his  '  Miracle  at  the  Pool 
of  Bethesda,'  307 


NOE 

Murphy,  D.  Brownell,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's father,  his  connection  with 
the  '  United  Irishmen,'  i  ;  re- 
moves from  Dublin  to  White- 
haven,  2  ;  to  Newcastle-on-Tyne, 
6  ;  to  London,  1 1  ;  his  birthday 
letter  to  his  daughter  Anna,  25  ; 
his  miniatures  of  the  '  Windsor 
Beauties,'  53 ;  his  appointment 
as  Painter  in  Enamel  to  the 
Princess  Charlotte,  53  ;  his  anec- 
dote of  Queen  Charlotte  and  the 
portrait  of  Nell  Gwynn,  54  ; 
death  of  his  patroness,  55  ;  his 
memorial  to  Prince  Leopold  in 
regard  to  the  miniatures,  56  ;  the 
Prince's  refusal  to  purchase  them, 
57  ;  has  the  portraits  engraved 
and  published,  58  ;  his  dangerous 
illness,  83,  91,  164  ;  his  death, 
1 80;  Miss  Martineau's  remarks 
on  the  event,  181 

Murphy,  Mrs.,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
mother,  death  of,  283 

Murphy,  Camilla  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Sherwin).  See  Sherwin,  Mrs. 

Murphy,  Charlotte,  80 

Murphy,  Louisa  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Bate).  See  Bate,  Mrs. 

Murray,  Lady  Amelia,  her  letter  to 
Mrs.  Jameson  concerning  the 
'  Companion  to  the  Art  Galleries,' 
167 

Murray,  Mr.  John,  the  publisher,  6 


NELSON,  Lord,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
juvenile  verses  on,  18 
Newcastle-on-Tyne,    Mrs.    Jame- 
son's home  at,  6 
Niagara,  the  Falls  of,  116,  122 
Noel,  Sir  Gerard,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
sketch  of,  49  ;  her  anecdote  of 
his  tender  feelings,  50 
Noel,  Miss  H.  J.,  51 


INDEX. 


NOE 

Noel,  Major  R.,  his  friendship  with 
"Mrs.  Jameson,  65  ;  his  marriage, 
148  ;  termination  of  his  corre- 
spondence with  Mrs.  Jameson, 
282 

Normanby,  Lord,  299 


ONTARIO,  Lake,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
admiration  of,  123  ;  meaning 
of  the  name,  128 
Ottilie  von  Goethe.    See  Goethe 


pANDARUS,  the  daughters  of, 
-L      Miss    Barrett's    rendering  of 

the  legend,  218 
Parkes,  Bessie  Raynor,  her  remarks 

on  Mrs.  Jameson,  293,  296 
Peel,  Sir  Robert,  his  letters  to  Mrs. 

Jameson,  169 
Pius  IX.,  237 
Potter,  Dr.,  143 
Procter,  Bryan  Waller  (better  known 

as  Barry  Cornwall).     See  Barry 

Cornwall 
Procter,   Mrs.,   raises    an  annuity 

for  Mrs.  Jameson,  284 
Prout,    Father    (Sylvester    O'Ma- 

hony),  239 


/\UEROUAILLE,  Louise  de  la, 
^ot    her  portrait  at  Windsor,  53 


"RAPHAEL,  his   cartoon  of  the 

JLl    <  Beautiful  Gate,'  308 

Reid,  Mrs.,  240 

Retzsch,  Mrs.  Jameson's  descrip- 
tion of  him,  72  ;  her  visit  to  his 
country  house,  73  ;  his  '  Fancies,' 
74,  96  ;  Mrs.  Jameson's  services 
to  him,  92 

Rice,  Spring  (Lord  Monteagle),  his 
anecdote  of  the  Queen,  1 54 


SID 

Rio,  Alexis-Franqois,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's meeting  with,  176 

Robertson,  Rev.  Mr.,  his  preaching, 
258 

Rogers,  Mr.,  307 

Rolle,  Lord,  144 

Rome,  Mrs.  Jameson's  first  view  of, 
36  ;  society  of,  in  1847,  238  ;  the 
antique  churches  of,  244 

Ronge,  215 

'Rory  O'More,'  Lover's  story  of, 
138 

Rosawitz,  Bohemia,  211 

Russia,  259 


ACRED  and  Legendary  Art,' 
Mrs.  Jameson's  work  on, 
192,  201,  226,  250 

San  Clemente,  Church  of,  the  re- 
cent discoveries  at,  245 ;  Mrs. 
Jameson's  delight  there,  297 

Saxon  Switzerland,  303 

SchefTer,  Ary,  Mrs.  Jameson's  in- 
terpretation of  his  *  Francesco 
da  Rimini,'  279 

Schlegel,  his  Shakespearean  trans- 
lations, 68,  8 1  ;  Mrs.  Jameson's 
acquaintance  with  him,  80 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  Joanna  Baillie's 
ideas  on  his  marriage,  142 

Sedgwick,  Catherine,  her  friend- 
ship with  Mrs.  Jameson,  133, 
136  ;  her  visit  to  England,  160 

Shakespeare,  the  female  characters 
of,  59 

Sherwin,  Mrs.,  her  birth,  3  ;  her 
anecdote  of  herself  and  her  sis- 
ters, 8 

Siddons,  Mrs.  Henry,  her  meeting 
with  Mrs.  Jameson,  196;  her 
death,  202;  Mrs.  Jameson's  feel- 
ings on  the  event,  203 

Siddons,  Mrs.  Sarah,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's biographical  sketch  of,  62 


362 


INDEX. 


SOM 
Somnambulism,    Mrs.     Jameson's 

alleged  tendency  to,  4  ;  her  ideas 

on,  177 
Stockbridge,  New  England,  134 


TAYLOR,  Father,  a   celebrated 
preacher  of  Boston,  U.S.,  134- 

136 

Taylor,  Tom,  his  life  of  Haydon,2/6 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  his  letter  to 
Mrs.  Jameson  concerning  her 
pension,  267 

Thomas,  Mr.,  publishes  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's '  Diary,'  39 

Tieck,  Mrs.  Jameson's  description 
of,  67 ;  his  dramatic  readings, 
67 ;  his  Shakespearean  transla- 
tions, 67,  68  ;  his  notes  on  Mrs. 
Jameson's  '  Characteristics  of 
Women,'  68-72 

Titian,  Mrs.  Jameson's  visit  to  the 
house  of,  221-224 

Toronto,  Mrs.  Jameson's  impres- 
sions of,  117 

Triqueti,  Henri  de,  176 

Trollope,  Mrs.,  her  weekly  reunions 
in  Florence,  235 


TTNGHER,  Caroline,  235 

6  T7ASARI,'  Mrs.  Jameson's  un- 

'       finished  review  of,  299 
Vaucluse,  231 


YOK 

Venice,  213 

Verona,  the  ancient  amphitheatre 
at,  212 

Victoria,  Queen,  coronation  of,  143 ; 
her  admirable  demeanour,  146 ; 
Leslie's  picture  of  her,  153  ; 
anecdotes  concerning  her,  1 54 ; 
her  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's 'Companion,'  167  ;  her  visit 
to  Ireland,  250 ;  attempt  to  shoot 
her,  260 ;  grants  Mrs.  Jameson 
a  yearly  pension  of  ioo/.,  266 

'Visits  and  Sketches,'  publication 
of,  86-89 


WAAGEN,  Dr.,  his  essay  on 
Rubens,  148 

Walpole,  Lord,  240 

Ware,  Rev.  William,  his  '  Letters 
from  Palmyra,'  138 

Warens,  Madame  de,  45 

Weimar,  court  of,  76  ;  Mrs.  Jame- 
son's life  there,  104 

Whitehaven,  Mrs.  Jameson's  resi- 
dence in,  2 

Windsor,  Mrs.  Jameson's  reflec- 
tions on,  146 

'  Windsor  Beauties,'  the,  54 

'Winter  Studies  and  Summer 
Rambles,'  131,  149,  150,  155,  269 

TTOKELY,  Miss,  Mrs.  Jameson's 
-*-     governess,    7 ;     marries    her 
pupil's  uncle,  1 1 


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INDEX 


Alley  &*  Overton's  English  Church  History  15 

Abney'i  Photography lo 

Acton's  Modern  Cookery 20 

Alpine  Club  Map  of  Switzerland  17 

Guide  (The) 17 

Amos' i  Jurisprudence  5 

— —  Primer  of  the  Constitution 5 

50  Years  of  English  Constitution  5 

Andersons  Strength  of  Materials 10 

Armstrong's  Organic  Chemistry  10 

Arnolds  (Dr. )  Lectures  on  Modem  History  a 

Miscellaneous  Works    7 

Sermons  15 

(T.)  English  Literature 6 

poetry  and  Prose  ...  6 

9 

19 


Amott's  Elements  of  Physics. 
Atelier  (The)  du  Lys 


Atherstone  Priory 18 

Autumn  Holidays  of  a  Country  Parson  ...      7 
Ayre's  Treasury  of  Bible  Knowledge  20 


Bacon's  Essays,  by  \Vhately 

Life  and  Letters,  by  Sfeddin 


S 

iing  ...  5 

•Works 5 

Bagehofs  Biographical  Studies 4 

Economic  Studies  21 

Literary  Studies 6 

Bailey's  Festus,  a  Poem iS 

Bain's  James  Mill  and  J.  S.  Mill 4 

Mental  and  Moral  Science   6 

— —  on  the  Senses  and  Intellect  6 

Emotions  and  Will 6 

j    Baker's  Two  Works  on  Ceylon 17 


22 


WORKS  published   by    LONGMANS 


CO. 


Baits  Alpine  Guides   17 

Ball's  Elements  of  Astronomy  10 

Barry  on  Railway  Appliances  10 

&  Bramwell  on  Railways,  &c 13 

Bauer/nan's  Mineralogy 10 

Beacon  sfield's  (Lord)  Novels  and  Tales  17  &  18 

Speeches    i 

Wit  and  Wisdom 6 

Becker  3  Charicles  and  Gallus 8 

Beeslys  Gracchi,  Marius,  and  Sulla 3 

Bent's  Memoir  of  Garibaldi    4 

Bingham's  Bonaparte  Marriages 4 

Black's  Treatise  on  Brewing  20 

Blackley's  German-English  Dictionary 8 

Elaine's  Rural  Sports 19 

Bloxam's  Metals   10 

Bolland  and  Lang's  Aristotle's  Politics 5 

Bosco's  Italian  History  by  Morell 2 

Boultbee  on  39  Articles 15 

's  History  of  the  English  Church...  15 

Bourne's  Works  on  the  Steam  Engine 14 

Bawdier  s  Family  Shakespeare  19 

Bramley-Moore 's  Six  Sisters  of  the  Valleys  .  19 

Brande's  Diet,  of  Science,  Literature,  &  Art  n 

Brassey's  British  Navy 13 

Sunshine  and  Storm  in  the  East .  17 

Voyage  of  the  'Sunbeam1 17 

Browne's  Exposition  of  the  39  Articles 15 

Brownings  Modern  England    3 

Buckle's  History  of  Civilisation 2 

Buckton's  Food  and  Home  Cookery 20 

Health  in  the  House 12 

BulTs  Hints  to  Mothers 21 

Maternal  Management  of  Children .  21 

Burgomaster's  Family  (The)  19 

Buried  Alive  18 

Burkes  Vicissitudes  of  Families 4 


Cabinet  Lawyer 20 

Capes's  Age  of  the  Antonines 3 

Early  Roman  Empire    3 

Carlyle's  Reminiscences 4 

Cates's  Biographical  Dictionary  4 

Cayley's  Iliad  of  Homer  19 

Changed  Aspects  of  Unchanged  Truths  ...  7 

Chesney's  Waterloo  Campaign  2 

Church's  Beginning  of  the  Middle  Ages  ...  3 

Colenso  on  Moabite  Stone  &c 16 

———'s  Pentateuch  and  Book  of  Joshua.  16 

Commonplace  Philosopher 7 

Comte's  Positive  Polity    5 

Conner's  Handbook  to  the  Bible  15 

Conington's  Translation  of  Virgil's  ^Eneid  19 
Contanseau's  Two  French  Dictionaries  ...7  &  8 

Conybeare  and  Howson's  St.  Paul 15 

Cordery's  Struggle  against  Absolute  Mon- 
archy    3 

Cotta  on  Rocks,  by  Lawrence    n 

Counsel  and  Comfort  from  a  City  Pulpit...  7 

Cox's  (G.  W.)  Athenian  Empire  3 

— — — —  Crusades 3 

•               •  Greeks  and  Persians 3 

Creighton's  Age  of  Elizabeth 3 

England  a  Continental  Power  3 

Papacy  during  the  Reformation  15 

Shilling  History  of  England  ...  3 

Tudors  and  the  Reformation  3 

Cresy's  Encyclopaedia  of  Civil  Engineering  14 


Critical  Essays  of  a  Country  Parson 7 

Culley's  Handbook  of  Telegraphy 14 

Curtels's  Macedonian  Empire    3 


Davidson  s  New  Testament 13 

De  Caisne  and  Le  Maout's  Botany   12 

De  Tocquevilti s  Democracy  in  America...  2 

Dixon's  Rural  Bird  Life , n 

Dun's  American  Farming  and  Food    21 


Eastlake's  Foreign  Picture  Galleries 13 

Hints  on  Household  Taste 14 

Edwards  on  Ventilation  &c 20 

Etticotfs  Scripture  Commentaries 15 

•  Lectures  on  Life  of  Christ    15 

Elsa  and  her  Vulture  19 

Epochs  of  Ancient  History 3 

English  History    t 3 

Modern  History    3 

Ewald's  History  of  Israel   16 

Antiquities  of  Israel 16 


Fairbairn's  Applications  of  Iron 14 

Information  for  Engineers 14 

Mills  and  Millwork 13 

Farrar's  Language  and  Languages 7 

Fitzwygram  on  Horses  19 

Francis's  Fishing  Book   19 

Freeman's  Historical  Geography  2 

Froude's  Caesar 4 

English  in  Ireland    i 

History  of  England  i 

Short  Studies 6 


Gairdner's  Houses  of  Lancaster  and  York  3 

Ganot's  Elementary  Physics   9 

•  Natural  Philosophy  9 

Gardiner's  Buckingham  and  Charles  I.  ...  2 

Personal  Government  of  Charles  I.  2 

Fall  of  ditto   2 

• Outline  of  English  History     ...  2 

Puritan  Resolution  3 

Thirty  Years' War    , 3 

German  Home  Life 7 

Goethe's  Faust,  by  Birds 18 

bySelss  18 

by  Webb    18 

Goodeve's  Mechanics 10 

Mechanism  13 

Gore's  Electro-Metallurgy 10 

Gospel  (The)  for  the  Nineteenth  Century  .  16 

Grant's  Ethics  of  Aristotle 5 

Graver  Thoughts  of  a  Country  Parson 7 

Greville's  Journal i 

Griffin's  Algebra  and  Trigonometry 10 

Grove  on  Correlation  of  Physical  Forces...  9 

Gwilt's  Encyclopcedia  of  Architecture 13 


Hales  Fall  of  the  Stuarts 3 

Hartwig's  Works  on  Natural  History,  &c.  n 

H assails  Climate  of  San  Remo 17 

Haughton's  Physical  Geography   n 

Hayward's  Selected  Essays   6 


WORKS  published  by   LONGMANS   6-    CO. 


Heer's  Primeval  World  of  Switzerland n 

Helmholtz's  Scientific  Lectures 9 

Herschels  Outlines  of  Astronomy 8 

Hopkins  3  Christ  the  Consoler    16 

Horses  and  Roads   19 

Hoskold's  Engineer's  Valuing  Assistant  ...  13 

Hullah's  History  of  Modern  Music    n 

Transition  Period  12 

Hume's  Essays  6 

Treatise  on  Human  Nature 6 


Ikne's  Rome  to  its  Capture  by  the  Gauls...      3 

History  of  Rome  2 

Ingelows  Poems  18 


Jago's  Inorganic  Chemistry  12 

Jameson's  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art 13 

Jenkins  Electricity  and  Magnetism 10 

Jerrold's  Life  of  Napoleon i 

Johnson's  Normans  in  Europe  3 

Patentee's  Manual 21 

Johnston's  Geographical  Dictionary 8 

Jukes  s  New  Man 16 

Second  Death  16 

Types  of  Genesis  16 


KaliscKs  Bible  Studies  15 

.                Commentary  on  the  Bible 16 

Path  and  Goal S 

Kellers  Lake  Dwellings  of  Switzerland....  u 

Kerfs  Metallurgy,  by  Crookes  and  Rohrig.  14 

Knatchbull-Hugesseri s  Fairy-Land  18 

Higgledy-Piggledy  18 


Macalister's  Vertebrate  Animals   xi 

Macaulays  (Lord)  Essays i 

History  of  England   ...  i 

Lays,  Illustrated  Edits.  12 

Cheap  Edition...  18 

Life  and  Letters 4 

Miscellaneous  Writings  6 

Speeches  6 

Works  i 

-« Writings.  Selections  from    6 

AfafCuJ/agA'sTrzcls  9 

McCarthy's  Epoch  of  Reform    3 

McCullocKs  Dictionary  of  Commerce 8 

Macfarren  on  Musical  Harmony 13 

Macleotfs  Economical  Philosophy '5 

Economics  for  Beginners 21 

Elements  of  Banking 21 

Elements  of  Economics 21 

Theory  and  Practice  of  Banking  21 

Macnamara's  Himalayan  Districts  17 

Mademoiselle  Mori 19 

Mahaffy's  Classical  Greek  Literature   3 

Marshman's  Life  of  Havelock    4 

Martineau's  Christian  Life 16 

Hours  of  Thought 16 

Hymns 16 

Maunder  s  Popular  Treasuries 20 

Maxwells  Theory  of  Heat 10 

May's  History  of  Democracy a 

History  of  England  2 

Melville's  (Whyte)  Novels  and  Tales  19 

Mendelssohn's  Letters  4 

Merivale's  Fall  of  the  Roman  Republic  ...  a 

General  History  of  Rome  a 

: Roman  Triumvirates 3 

Romans  under  the  Empire a 

Merrifteld's  Arithmetic  and  Mensuration...  10 

Miles  on  Horse's  Foot  and  Horse  Shoeing  19 

on  Horse's  Teeth  and  Stables 19 

Mill  (J.)  on  the  Mind 5 

Mills  (J.  S.)  Autobiography 4 

Dissertations  &  Discussions  5 

Essays  on  Religion 15 

Hamilton's  Philosophy  5 

Liberty  5 

Political  Economy  5 

Representative   Government  5 

Subj  ection  of  Women 5 

System  of  Logic  5 

Unsettled  Questions    5 

Utilitarianism  5 


Landscapes,  Churches,  &c 7 

Lathams  English  Dictionaries  7 

Handbook  of  English  Language  7 

Lecky's  History  of  England i 

European  Morals 3 

Rationalism  3 

Leaders  of  Public  Opinion 4 

Lee's  Geologist's  Note  Book  n 

Leisure  Hours  in  Town  7 

Leslie's  Political  and  Moral  Philosophy    ...  6 

Lessons  of  Middle  Age    7 

Lewes's  History  of  Philosophy  3 

Lewis  on  Authority  6 

Liddell  and  Scott's  Greek-English  Lexicons  8 

Lindley  and  Moore's  Treasury  of  Botany  ...  20 

Lloyd's  Magnetism  9 

Wave-Theory  of  Light 10 

Longman's  (F.  W.)  Chess  Openings 20 

Frederic  the  Great 3 

Longmans  (F.  W. )  German  Dictionary  ...  8 

(W.)  Edward  the  Third 2 

Lectures  on  H  istory  of  England  a 

Old  and  New  St.  Paul's  13 

Lcudon's  Encyclopaedia  of  Agriculture  ...  14 

— — Gardening 14 

Plants 12 

Lubbock's  Origin  of  Civilisation n 

Litdlcnv's  American  War  of  Independence  3 

Lyra  Germanica    16        Nelson  on  the  Moon 8 


Millers  Elements  of  Chemistry  12 

Inorganic  Chemistry  10 

Wintering  in  the  Riviera 17 

M liner's  Country  Pleasures  n 

Mitchells  Manual  of  Assaying 14 

Modern  Novelist's  Library  18  &  19 

Monck's  Logic  6 

Monselfs  Spiritual  Songs 17 

Moore's  Irish  Melodies,  Illustrated  Edition  13 

Lalla  Rookh,  Illustrated  Edition..  13 

Morris's  Age  of  Anne 3 

Mailer's  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop.  7 

Hibbert  Lectures  on  Religion  ...  16 

Science  of  Language  7 

Science  of  Religion 16 

Selected  Essays  7 


published  by    LONGMANS    d~    CO. 


Nevile's  Horses  and  Riding 19 

Newmans  Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua 4 

Nicoh'i  Puzzle  of  Life n 

Northcott's  Lathes  &  Turning    13 


Orsfs  Fifty  Years'  Recollections 4 

Ormsby's  Poem  of  the  Cid 18 

Our  Little  Life,  by  A.  K.  II.  B 7 

Overtoil's  Life,  &c.  ot  Law 4 

Owen's  Comparative  Anatomy  and   Phy- 
siology of  Vertebrate  Animals    10 

Owen's  Evenings  with  the  Skeptics  7 


Payen's  Industrial  Chemistry 13 

Pewtner's  Comprehensive  Specifier  20 

Piesse's  Art  of  Perfumery   14 

Pole's  Game  of  Whist 20 

Powells  Early  England 3 

Preece  &  Sivewright's  Telegraphy 10 

Present-Day  Thoughts 7 

Proctor's  Astronomical  Works  9 

Scientific  Essays n 

Public  Schools  Atlases    8 


Rawlinsons  Ancient  Egypt  3 

Sassanians  3 

Recreations  of  a  Country  Parson 7 

Reynolds 's  Experimental  Chemistry 12 

Rich's  Dictionary  of  Antiquities    8 

Rivers' s  Orchard  House 12 

Rose  Amateur's  Guide 12 

Rogers' s  Eclipse  of  Faith  and  its  Defence  15 

Rogets  English  Thesaurus 8 

Ronalds'  Fly-Fisher's  Entomology    19 

Rowleys  Rise  of  the  People  3 

Settlement  of  the  Constitution  ...  3 

Rutley's  Study  of  Rocks 10 


Bandars' s  Justinian's  Institutes 5 

Sankeys  Sparta  and  Thebes  3 

Savile  on  Apparitions 7 

Seaside  Musings  7 

Scott's  Farm  Valuer 21 

Rents  and  Purchases 21 

Seebohm's  Oxford  Reformers  of  1498 2 

Protestant  Revolution 3 

Sennett s  Marine  Steam  Engine 14 

Sewells  History  of  France 2 

Passing  Thoughts  on  Religion   ...  16 

•  Preparation  for  Communion  16 

.              Private  Devotions 16 

Stories  and  Tales  18 

Shelley's  Workshop  Appliances 10 

Short's  Church  History  15 

Smith's  (Sydney)  Wit  and  Wisdom 6 

(Dr.  R.  A.)  Air  and  Rain  8 

(R.  B.)Carthage£  the  Carthaginians  2 

Rome  and  Carthage  3 

(J.)  Shipwreck  of  St.  Paul  15 

Southey's  Poetical  Works , 19 

&  Bowles's  Correspondence  4 

Stanley's  Familiar  History  of  Birds n 


Steel  on  Diseases  of  the  Ox    19 

Stephen  s  Ecclesiastical  Biography 4 

Stonehenge,  Dog  and  Greyhound 19 

Stoney  on  Strains 13 

Stubbs's  Early  Plantagenets    3 

Sunday  Afternoons,  by  A.  K.  H.B 7 

Supernatural  Religion 16 

Swinburne's  Picture  Logic  6 


Tancock's    England    during    the    Wars, 

1778-1820  3 

Taylor's  History  of  India   2 

— — —  Ancient  and  Modern  History  ...  4 

(Jeremy)  Works,  edited  by  Eden  16 


Text-Books  of  Science 10 

Thomt's  Botany  xo 

Thomson's  Laws  of  Thought 6 

Thorpe's  Quantitative  Analysis  10 

Thorpe  and  Muir's  Qualitative  Analysis  ...  10 

Thudichum's  Annals  of  Chemical  Medicine  12 

Tilden's  Chemical  Philosophy  10 

• Practical  Chemistry 12 

Todd  on  Parliamentary  Government 2 

Trench  s  Realities  of  Irish  Life 17 

Trevelyan's  Life  of  Fox  i 

Trollope's  Warden  and  Barchester  Towers  18 

Twiss's  Law  of  Nations 5 

TyndaUs  (Professor)  Scientific  Works   ...  10 


Unawares  19 

Unwin's  Machine  Design  10 

Ure's  Arts,  Manufactures,  and  Mines 14 


Ville  on  Artificial  Manures 14 


Walker  on  Whist 2O 

Walpole's  History  of  England  i 

Warburton's  Edward  the  Third    3 

Watson  s  Geometery    10 

Watts' s  Dictionary  of  Chemistry 12 

Webb's  Celestial  Objects 8 

Weld's  Sacred  Palmlands  17 

Wellington's  Life,  by  Gleig  4 

Whately's  English  Synonymes 7 

Logic  and  Rhetoric 6 

White's  Four  Gospels  in  Greek 16 

and  Riddle's  Latin  Dictionaries   ...  8 

Wilcocks's  Sea-Fisherman  19 

Williams' s  Aristotle's  Ethics 5 

Willich's  Popular  Tables  21 

Wilsons  Resources  of  Modern  Countries...  21 

Studies  of  Modern  Mind 6 

Wood's  Works  on  Natural  History...    10  &  n 

Woodward's  Geology n 


Yonge's  English-Greek  Lexicons 8 

Youatt  on  the  Dog  and  Horse  19 


Zeller'i  Greek  Philosophy 3 


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